


Guard Your Heart

by sainnis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), Bodyguard Keith (Voltron), Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Comfort, Demisexual Keith (Voltron), Diplomat Shiro, Feelings Realization, First Time, Frottage, Galran Culture (Voltron), Half-Galra Keith (Voltron), Heartbeats, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, Mates, Non-Penetrative Sex, Protective Keith (Voltron), Purring Keith (Voltron), Sparring, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26460958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: Raised by his Galra mother and human father and trained by the Marmoran Academy, Blade bodyguard Keith is assigned to protect Earth's first diplomat, Captain Takashi Shirogane of the Galaxy Garrison, at an intergalactic peace coalition. What begins as a simple mission evolves into shared connection as they spend time together, but when an attempt is made on Shiro's life, Keith's Galra instincts kick in, as do some surprising revelations.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 87
Kudos: 432
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	Guard Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sheith Prompt Party 2020.
> 
> Original Prompt: Hurt/Comfort with Galra Keith where Shiro gets injured and Keith’s Galra instincts kick in to protect his mate. (Thanks to my secret party prompter @goldentruth813 for the amazing idea!)
> 
> Want to see some gorgeous sketches of Keith in this fic? [See ingravedanger's amazing art!](https://twitter.com/Ingravedanger1/status/1311658149623918593?s=20) Thanks so much for sharing your beautiful work!

“There you are.” Keith’s dad places a steaming cup of tea on the table before sliding into the seat across from him. “I’ve been looking for you. All packed?”

“Thank you.” Keith scrubs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten a bit longer since graduating from the Marmoran Academy and he finds he likes it. “Yes, I’m ready.” He taps the padd in front of him. He’s read through the envoy dossier files so many times at this point he’s nearly got them memorized. “I got official word that Captain Shirogane’s ship will arrive on schedule tomorrow afternoon. So the detail’s a go.” He sips his tea, breathing in the scent of alyssia and lowenflower, and grins. “You trying to put me to sleep with this?”

“What?” his dad says, shrugging. “I know how it is the night before you go on a mission. All the nerves and excitement. I know this isn’t your first, but I know how much you’ve prepared. I thought you might want something a little calming.”

“Very nice of you.” The tea’s perfectly brewed, with just a little touch of sweet. His dad knows him so well. “Mom’s still at Council?”

“Yeah. I just got off the comm with her. She’ll be home soon. She’s anxious to wish you well.” His dad peers over the edge of Keith’s padd. “So. The first diplomat from Earth’s about to arrive.” He chuckles. “About time.”

“If things go well, who knows? Maybe some quintant you’ll get to go back. You’ve always talked about it.”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” His dad shakes his head. “You’d love it so much. I hope you’re right. There’s so many things I’d love for you to see. And eat! The food, Keith. I do my best, but it’s hard to make a decent pizza when we don’t have anything out here remotely like a tomato. There’s so much water there. So many kinds of humans, you can’t even imagine.” He sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if our little shack is still there. God, it’s hard to believe it’s been more than twenty-one years.”

Keith’s seen the pictures; a tiny wooden structure in the desert, the place where his dad brought his mom after her crash. The two of them with arms around each other, grinning for the camera, his mom’s belly huge before Keith was born. His dad brought some paper books about Earth with him, their pages glossy with creatures unlike anything Keith has ever seen, the colors alien, the landscapes unfamiliar. His childhood always had the shadow of Earth behind it. “You think the Captain likes the same music you do?”

His dad laughs. “I’m sure there’s much newer music. Everything I liked would be on the oldies station now.”

Keith frowns. “What’s the oldies station?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His dad turns Keith’s padd around. “Mind if I take a look?”

“You have higher clearance than I do. Pretty sure you can.” Having his mom on the five-member governing Council of the Blades has filled Keith’s world with a lot more politics than most Galrans, but the Blades don’t believe in nepotism and if anything, Keith had to fight harder and go beyond expectations to make it through the Academy.

“Hmm. Galaxy Garrison, huh?” His dad whistles. “Youngest pilot to lead a mission to deep space. Wow. He’s got quite a pedigree. They must have a lot of faith in him to send him as the official envoy.”

“He had some sort of rare illness as a child, and the treatment had some side effects that makes it easier for him to endure space travel.” Keith drains a bit more of his tea. “He seems a bit famous on his planet. There’s more pics and articles as you go along in the files.”

A message blinks at the top of his padd and Keith tilts his head to read it. _Sorry I can’t be there to wish you good luck. Have fun on Madara Station!_ Keith’s stomach twists a little, but he ignores it. Of course Regris is too busy to stop planetside. That’s what happens when you get a mate. It’s the natural order of things. One by one, all of Keith’s Academy peers have paired off, each called towards their partner, as if pulled by invisible strings.

Keith knows it’s not likely to happen in the same way for him, or even at all. The Galran doctors have done their best with Keith to help him understand his mixed biology, but there’s a lot they can’t tell him. Most of the time it doesn’t bother him; he’s got plenty on his mind between the political storms his mom is weathering and his own Blade career. He’s never really felt attraction to anyone, anyway, so his peers’ sudden fixations on each other seem about as unfamiliar as the creatures in his dad’s books about Earth.

He wishes his friends hadn’t disappeared on him, though, the moment they met their mates.

“That from Regris?” his dad asks.

“Yeah. He and Deru are traveling to spend time with Deru’s family.”

“Oh, I’ve met Deru. They’re really sweet.”

“They will be very happy together.” Keith swipes the message away. “You said this would happen, after the Academy. Everyone starting their life in a different direction.”

His dad nods, rubbing the scar that bisects his eyebrow. He got it saving someone in his old job on Earth. “It’s hard when it looks like everyone has their shit together, but I promise it’s never as easy as it looks. Even this Captain,” he says, gesturing at the diplomat on Keith’s padd. “I’m sure he looks all polished here, but I’ll bet he’s nervous as all hell to get here. And here’s the thing, Keith. We all have our own journeys to get where we’re going. You and everyone you grew up with are going to have wildly different lives, and that’s a good thing.”

Keith makes a soft sound. “Because I’m half-Galra?”

“No. Because you’re _you_.” His dad reaches out and squeezes his wrist. “You’re about to be a part of history, and you got there by your own strength, tenacity, and will. This coalition could change everything for the better. We’re so proud of you, Keith.”

Keith’s cheeks flush. “I haven’t even left yet.”

Tex grins. “Spoiler alert, we’re proud of you all the time.”

The door hisses open and Kosmo jumps up, running to greet Keith’s mom. “I told them I had to be done by seven and look at the time.” She presses a kiss to Tex’s forehead, and then one to Keith’s. She clears her throat as she turns Keith’s padd towards her, looking at the diplomat's file. “Well, now. Give my regards to Earth.”

_”Mom.”_

“What? He’s extremely handsome, you have to admit.”

The military headshot of Captain Shirogane hovers on the screen. He is, objectively speaking, quite attractive. Broad shoulders fill out his grey Garrison uniform decorated with his rank, but his serious expression is belied in the eyes; there’s something a bit mischievous there, like he just heard a joke but had to keep a straight face. His hair is brilliant white, which, from the Earth publications Keith’s found in the files, is uncommon for younger humans.

Krolia flicks through the images. “I bet the media eats him up. Look at this one.” She brings up a picture of Shiro grinning with a group of children, each holding up some kind of handmade spacecraft.

“He’s a PR dream,” Tex says. “If he’s half as diplomatic as he is photogenic, your protection detail will be making sure no one tries to steal him away.”

Keith frowns. “I won’t let anything happen to him.” He hasn’t met the Captain yet, but he’s spent enough time with his files to feel a little protective already.

“I know you won’t.”

They fill their cups with another round of tea before Keith finally rises, collecting his padd. He needs to leave well before sunrise so he says his farewells, giving into crushing hugs from both of his parents. His dad’s always been very physically demonstrative in his affection, and his mom’s always said Tex was meant to be in a Galran family. There’s no getting out of the house without a pat on the shoulder, a quick embrace, or a tousle of hair.

Kosmo follows Keith to bed, snuffling under the blankets until he finds a comfortable position. He’d love to bring Kosmo with him, but a peace coalition doesn’t seem like a great place for a space wolf with a tendency to warp in and out of any place with food. Stroking Kosmo’s shaggy head, he reviews the itinerary for tomorrow in his mind. All the VIPs will have a Blade assigned to them for the duration of their stay, but he wonders if Captain Shirogane knows anything about him. Probably not. When people hear about Blades, they often picture massive Galra, which Keith admittedly is not, but he secretly hopes that maybe the Captain will like having someone who speaks his language and looks a little like him.

He usually drops off easily, but he’s dreamed of meeting another human for so long that he finds it difficult to fall asleep.

++

Captain Shirogane is late. Or, at least his ship is.

The hangar in Madara Station is big enough to hold an Ullevian battle cruiser with room left to spare. Keith checks the time and resists the urge to pace. He’d much rather be moving his body and alleviating some of his pent-up nerves, but the Academy trained those types of tics out of him. Pacing means you’re impatient, which means you’re not paying attention, which gives enemies the advantage. Keith doesn’t expect any sudden attacks to leap out of the few ships already docked on the far side of the hangar, especially since it’s getting late and the majority of the staff have gone off shift for an evening meal. Still, he wants to be ready for when Captain Shirogane’s ship arrives.

He’s done some research on Earth’s level of technology, and while they’ve been able to travel close to their planet, a journey out this far requires hibernation since they haven’t perfected their means of radiation protection yet. It would have made more sense, perhaps, for one of the coalition ships to travel to Earth instead to collect their envoy, but Keith’s dad said Earth’s inhabitants are still struggling with the idea that they’re not the only intelligent life in the universe. Keith wonders if Captain Shirogane shares this sentiment. He hopes not.

Thirty doboshes later, one of the hangar doors starts to glow, an alarm beeping loud enough to startle Keith out of his ready stance. A small ship eases in before docking, its lines wholly unfamiliar to Keith, although the pilot demonstrates no small amount of agility and lands precisely on target. A gaudy-looking mark is affixed to the side of the ship, red and white lines with a smudge of blue, and along with the symbol for what Keith recognizes from his dossier as the Galaxy Garrison.

All his attention on the ship’s odd design disappears, however, when the hatch hisses open and the Captain himself descends. Several observations hit Keith in quick succession: he’s tall, he’s more attractive than his military portrait, and he’s smiling at Keith.

“Captain Shirogane,” Keith says, taking a few steps towards him, holding out his hand. “It’s good to meet you. I’ll be your assigned Blade as part of the coalition.”

His dad warned him that people from Earth prefer touching hands instead of the usual Galra greeting of clasping arms, but the Captain surprises Keith by reaching out and taking his forearm. “I’m so glad to know you. Thank you for waiting. I know I’m later than expected, but I lost nav as soon as I got close enough to the station’s atmosphere and things were a little touch and go.” He gives a quick smile, which accentuates the scar across the bridge of his nose. “Oh, and please. Call me Shiro.” Humans like shorter names, Keith remembers. It’s a sign of closeness. He’s glad that Shiro trusts him with a smaller name. “Um, what should I call you?”

Introductions. Keith’s not remembering his diplomacy training. “My apologies. Keith. My name is Keith.”

Shiro leans forward just a little. “Really?” His uniform is stark white, matching his hair, save for little bits of colored fabric and metal attached over his heart. “Keith is a fairly common name where I come from.”

Keith laughs. “I have never met another Keith.” He glances up at Shiro’s ship. “You must have personal effects that need retrieving.”

“I, ah, tried to pack light, but this is my first intergalactic peace coalition so I didn’t want to be underdressed.” Shiro gestures at his ship. “I can go grab my bags.”

A diplomatic envoy who carries his own bags? Fascinating. “No need. We’ve arranged for the station staff to bring your things to your chambers.” Keith inclines his head. “Would you like to walk with me?”

“Of course.” Shiro falls into step next to Keith, his polished, white boots making resounding clacks against the hangar floor. “Forgive me if it’s impolite, but is there any chance there might be food around here? You can just point me in the right direction and leave me be. I’m sure you’re very busy. I can find my way around.” He peers at the sign on the wall, frowning. “I’m pretty sure my translator will work. At least I hope it will.”

“Leave you be?” Keith glances at him curiously. “Did you not receive information about me?”

“Um, should I have? I know I’m a little addled from the hibernation but I’m pretty sure I’d remember if someone had mentioned you,” he says, an interesting pink flush cresting over his scar.

How many light years away from home is this human, surrounded by strangers in every sense, and yet he speaks to Keith with such familiarity? “Each of the VIP envoys has been assigned a Blade of Marmora for the duration of the coalition. I am your personal Blade, and I will be with you throughout your time on Madara Station.” He leads Shiro to a lift, punching in the code to get to the residency floors. “I’m to stay by your side.”

“You’re, like, a bodyguard?”

“Protection, yes. And to assist with your needs and provide translation as necessary.” Keith watches floors whiz by the glass panels. “My responsibility is to ensure your safety and wellbeing.” The lift slows to a stop. “We will have refreshments delivered to your suite.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble. If there’s a place to get food somewhere, that’s fine.”

“Captain Shirogane—“

“Shiro, please.” His smile is devastating.

“With all due respect, you are recently out of hibernation. The records I received indicated that your metabolic systems take at least 24 vargas to recover.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Ah. He’s one of those types. “Your hands have been shaking since you got off your ship. Let me take you to your rooms, get you something to eat, and you can rest.”

Shiro’s expression changes to concern. “I thought I had a meeting with the coalition council.”

“I moved your meeting when I knew your arrival would be later than anticipated. You will not be at your best this evening. You traveled a long way to be here.” He steps out of the lift, instinctually checking for any sign of movement, but the corridor is empty. “This way. I think you will find the suite nicely appointed.”

Shiro lags behind a few steps, taking in the variety of sculpture and artwork placed throughout the space. “This place is incredible.”

“Madara Station prides itself on its art displays. These are all holograms. Every morning, new ones appear.”

Shiro reaches out with his right hand, metal fingers gently brushing through the holographic display of a landscape painting from Genista-3. “Wow.” Keith’s dad said that Earth’s medical capabilities were more primitive than the Blades, but Shiro’s prosthetic arm looks quite impressive. He wants to ask a question about it, but he’s been told that humans would find such personal inquiries to be intrusive and possibly rude.

“There is a digital gallery in your room. You can view the entire collection from there, or even display certain pieces in your suite if you wish.” Keith approaches the door, which opens automatically. “Your suite is already tied to your biometric authentication. As I will be with you, mine is keyed in as well.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, following him inside. “You’re staying here, too?”

“It’s protocol,” Keith says. “Your privacy will be respected, of course. There are several bedchambers, a private training area, washrooms, and seating area.”

Shiro looks up at the ceiling, where a holographic nebula splashes indigo and purple light across the room. “This is not what I was expecting.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” Keith crosses to the wall, checking the security settings on the suite.

“Sorry! It’s just so big,” Shiro says, extending his arms with a little laugh. “And luxurious. I don’t know how much you know about Earth spacecraft, but, well, aesthetics aren’t really the goal as much as practicality and, well, not exploding midflight.”

“Understandable. Do you find that--” Keith stops speaking when Shiro suddenly presses a hand over his eyes, faltering a little. “Shiro, are you all right?”

He winces. “Sometimes after hibernation, I get headaches. It’s okay. I’m fine. It’ll pass.” Shiro takes a few steps towards the sitting area, but his boot snags on one of the suite’s fancy xllavia-woven rugs and he trips. Keith vaults forward, catching Shiro’s left shoulder and preventing him from crashing to the floor.

“You don’t seem fine.” He leads Shiro over to the couch in the sitting area, settling him on the plush cushions. A few drops of sweat appear along Shiro’s hairline. “Is the temperature in here too much for you?”

Shiro unbuttons the collar of his uniform jacket. “Sorry. No. It’s just my stupid body trying to remember how to function.” He leans forward, pressing his palms over his face. “You all don’t even use hibernation on spaceflight, do you?”

Keith crosses the room to fetch a glass of water and then tugs on Shiro’s sleeve. “Drink.” He clears his throat. Some species do not like being reminded of the differences in technology between themselves and others, but he has a feeling Shiro wants to know. “We do not. We have a variety of means of space travel that eliminate threats of radiation as well as reduced travel time.”

After draining the glass, Shiro exhales a sigh. “Sounds amazing.” He looks up at Keith through bleary eyes. “How do you speak English so well? I thought it was a translator at first but there’s nothing that good on the market.”

Keith flushes, warmth spilling along his throat. He's proud of his fluency in his father's tongue. “My dad is from Earth. I am half-Galra, half-human.” He smiles. “Yet somehow they’re both taller than me.”

“Your dad’s from Earth.”

“From Texas.”

Shiro lets out a low whistle. “Here I thought I was the clever one coming to deep space and he’s been here all this time.”

“Mom’s ship crash landed in the desert. He found her, they fell in love, had me, and then not long after, the Blades recalled my mom. They repaired her ship and I grew up here.” He rises to his feet. “Make yourself comfortable. Perhaps you should lie down for a bit and see if your symptoms subside? I can order us some food and by the time it gets here you might feel a little better.”

Shiro undoes the buttons on his jacket, taking it off. Underneath he wears a short-sleeved white shirt, which reveals the dark pink seam along his right bicep where his prosthetic attaches. “You don’t even know what I like.”

Keith holds up his padd. “I have an entire set of files on you. You think there is not a nutrition profile in here?” He taps the screen. “I will warn you that my dad hasn’t found perfect replacements for his favorite Earth foods here. The one he complains about the most is a 'hot dog'. I do not know that particular cuisine.”

“Valid.” Shiro slips off his boots and reclines on the couch. “What does your file tell you to order for me?”

“Hmm. You tolerate some spicy things but not all, you mainly eat protein and plants but you really like carbohydrates, and the one thing you requested on your first space flight was a bar of something called dark chocolate.”

“You know about my sweet tooth and my secret carb stash? You really did your research.” He closes his eyes, pillowing his head on the cushioned armrest of the couch. “What other things do these mysterious files have to say?”

“Nothing that will not keep. Rest for now.” Keith uses his padd to dim the lights and he hears Shiro’s breath start to even out. His files say that Shiro has trouble sleeping, but perhaps the stress of the journey will pull his body into slumber more easily.

Keith pulls a small metal sphere from his pocket, setting it on the table nearby. He’s usually not a fan of surveillance tech because most of the time it sets off more false alarms than anything else, but in a space like this, it’s more useful. He tunes the sphere to their biorhythms and a bit of relief rolls through him when he sees the green light on the top flicker on. He sighs, walking back towards his small chamber nearer to the entrance. He’s a little on edge, but he’s not quite sure why. Maybe it’s the pressure of a mission at this level, or maybe it’s the fact Shiro’s from Earth and he feels an affinity for him because of their shared heritage. This isn’t his first protection assignment and he knows he’s capable; he was at the top of his class at the Academy, even though he’s had to train harder to make up for the additional strength his full Galra classmates possess.

He’s known Shiro for all of a varga at best, but he understands now why the files describe his glowing leadership qualities, the trust he engenders in his team. He’s someone people look up to, someone people like. It’s easy to see why.

After ordering their meals, Keith digs through his pack to find a vacuum-sealed tin, pulling it out and heading towards the tiny kitchen off the sitting room. The cabinets have essentials and basic crockery and dishware, and he searches to find the cup option that most resembles what his family uses at home. He fills a teapot with boiling water from the dispenser before retrieving a few types of sweeteners. He and his family don’t typically use them as much, but he knows Shiro might. Opening the small tin of tea, the scent of ander leaves and orrin blossoms rise up, relaxing him immediately. This is a rare kind, brought back by his mom when she went on a diplomatic journey to Radaron a few months ago.

When he steps quietly into the sitting room, he sees Shiro stir, the muscles of his shoulders moving under his thin shirt. “I brought you some tea. It might help with the headache.” Keith sets the tray down on the table, checking the pot to see how it’s steeping.

Shiro rubs at his eyes, blinking at Keith. “You did?”

“Galra and humans are both very fond of tea. I am told it is one of the things my parents bonded over in the beginning. This one can help soothe pain and relax you. Or, at least it has for me.” He pours the tea, careful to catch the leaves with the strainer. “I’m not sure which of our sweeteners will be to your taste. The one in the purple container is mildly sweet with a bit of spice flavor, the blue is a sweetener made with a fruit, and the green one is made out of Lilia flowers. A little of that one goes a long way.”

Shiro sits up, clearly curious. “Can I try them?”

“Of course.” Keith watches him taste each one in turn.

He grimaces at the green. “That’s like Splenda on steroids.”

Keith shrugs. “I will take your word for it.”

“The blue’s better.” He tries the purple, and his eyes widen. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing. It’s like honey but with a clove and cardamom kick.” He adds some to his tea, perhaps a bit more than necessary, but Keith finds it endearing. Shiro lifts the tea to his lips, taking a small sip, and he sighs. “This is incredible. It’s strong but it’s light, and it leaves this amazing taste on your tongue, like it lingers? What is this?”

“Ander and orrin. They’re not very common, even in our system.” Keith sips his own tea, letting the taste soothe him.

“Madara Station had this in the kitchen?”

“No,” Keith says, folding his legs underneath him and sitting beside the table. “I brought it with me. Tea always reminds me of home and safety.”

“It’s kind of you to share with me. Especially one that’s so rare.” Shiro takes another sip. “I can’t believe how delicious this is.”

“It is your first time visiting our system. We always want our guests to receive the best of everything.”

Shiro’s cup looks small nestled between his large palms. He gives a soft laugh. “I can’t believe you found not one, but three kinds of sweetener for me.”

Keith smiles. “I am resourceful.”

"I look forward to seeing what other surprises you have in store for me." Shiro grins, lifting the tea to his mouth once more.

“Dinner will be here momentarily.” Keith rubs the back of his neck. “I have to confess that some of the options are a bit, well, what is the word for fancy when you mean snobbish?”

“Oh, like pompous? Or pretentious.”

“Pretentious. Yes.” Keith hands his padd over to Shiro to see the order. “The menu is in Yllirric, which never translates well, and everything has upwards of twenty ingredients that get more and more complicated. I went for simpler choices but no one will be offended if you take the dried nillanva legs off.” He grimaces. He hates those.

“Well,” Shiro says, “I did come out here for an adventure. Might as well start with the food.”

++

The next several quintants settle into a pleasant pace of meetings, station amenities, and conversation. Shiro had the farthest to travel and via the slowest vessel, so the coalition’s decision to bring him out early was a thoughtful one. He struggles through the first quintant, although his ready smile and genial disposition don’t give away an ounce of his exhaustion. When they return back to his suite, however, Shiro crashes on the couch and askes Keith about entertainment, something soothing and not too stressful. Madara Station receives signals from all known galaxies in its region, but the Blades as a group aren’t always the most up-to-date on such things and Keith's no exception.

He tries to think of something he liked to watch when he was a kit. “Do you like animals?”

“Yeah.” Shiro holds up his padd, which seems like a smaller and less efficient model than Keith’s. “I live on the Garrison grounds, but the hangar where our ships are kept has a cat, Black. She’s super sweet and all the pilots take care of her. Sometimes she follows me back to my room and hangs with me. She’s a pretty good part-time roommate.” The padd displays a picture of a small feline creature, which Keith recognizes immediately from his dad’s books that he read.

Keith taps the screen on the wall, looking for the right signal. “So you live part-time with a cat.”

Shiro laughs. “No, I mean, Black sometimes will chill in my apartment, but I live alone. I mean, I live in a building with other people, other pilots and such, but not with anyone.” Keith catches himself staring and he schools his expression. “Hey! You just made a face.”

“It is just my face.”

“You did, though.” Shiro tilts his head. “It must be hard to imagine, I guess. I, ah, did some research last night on the Galra and it sounds like family is really important to you.”

Keith’s taken aback. He’s supposed to be the one with files on Shiro, not the other way around. “Family is very important. Both blood and those we choose.”

“I agree.” Shiro nods. He hesitates for a tick and then scrolls through his padd, holding up another image. “My grandparents. They raised me. Saw me through a lot of hard times when I was sick as a kid. They passed away not long before I started flight school, but I never would have gotten here without them.”

Keith touches his hand over his heart. “May they be revered.”

Shiro’s gaze is heavy and he swallows. “That’s a beautiful thing to say.”

“We honor those who go before us.” Keith clears his throat, suddenly aware of how this was not what Shiro asked for at all. He requested light entertainment and now they’ve stumbled into conversations about the dead. “Ah,” he says. “I found it.” The screen lights up and several huge feline creatures appear. “This signal is all different types of animals from around the galaxy. They live in protective enclosures and are not in danger, so it is enjoyable to watch them play.”

Shiro smiles. “It’s Animal Planet. In space.”

“It is actually many different planets.”

“Of course.”

The first night, Shiro’s biometrics suggest that he doesn’t sleep well. Keith’s done a lot of research to understand the differences between human and Galra physiology, since the only healers among the Blades are Galra. He understands humans go through different sleep cycles than Galra do, but their metabolic states are similar. He determines the first night was probably nerves or maybe leftover weariness from the hibernation status. Yet after a long second quintant, wherein Shiro managed to make the coalition logistics manager laugh, which wasn’t even something Keith knew they could do, Shiro’s biometrics still suggest he’s only getting a few vargas at best.

Keith grits his teeth. He can fix this. He changes the temperature settings in Shiro’s chambers, dropping it a few degrees because humans tend to do better with a slightly cool environment. The light patterns on Shiro’s ceiling are changed and Keith ensures that no outside light comes into the room. He plies Shiro with a bit more of his rare tea, hoping that will help him ease into rest, but the third night passes and Shiro’s biometrics haven’t budged.

A little part of him feels like he shouldn’t be intruding on the workings of Shiro’s biorhythms, but the rest of him knows that it’s his job to ensure that Shiro is safe and that his wellbeing is taken care of during the coalition. If Shiro isn’t sleeping and he’s not able to function well with the other delegates and envoys, it could be problematic for Earth’s position and future diplomatic efforts. He needs to find a way to assist him.

On the fourth quintant, he takes Shiro on a long trip around Madara Station in a little speeder, letting him take the controls halfway around. It’s clear that Shiro’s piloting instincts are incredible and that he truly has earned the reputation of his files. Within doboshes, he masters what takes some young Blades months to learn, and he’s whooping like a kit as he pushes the limits of the craft. His joy is infectious and Keith finds himself grinning. Usually flights inside a speeder like this barely raise his heart rate, but he can’t help but get caught up in Shiro’s excitement.

They get back later than intended and settle in for the night, and Keith feels a sense of satisfaction creep over him as he goes to bed. There’s no way that after all that Shiro will not be able to rest. Keith slips off to sleep, grateful that he found a solution to Shiro’s insomnia.

When something crashes in the middle of the night, Keith’s armed and out of bed in a matter of ticks. He set up the sphere. How the hell could anything get by that? Slipping out of his room, he listens intently. Something else thuds softly. He dashes across the suite, his low-level eyesight taking in the fact nothing’s been moved, no sign of struggle. It’s coming from the training room. He presses himself against the wall outside, breaths silent, and then leaps into the doorway, blade extended.

“Keith!” Shiro’s standing in front of a piece of exercise equipment, tapping on the control panel. His eyes are wide and they’re staring at Keith’s sword.

“Shiro!” Keith puts his weapon down, exhaling. “I thought someone intruded.” He takes a step forward. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know, couldn’t sleep.” He thumps his fist against the machine. “Probably would help if I translated the directions on this thing instead of just mashing buttons and hoping for the best.”

“You,” Keith says, uncertain, “wish to exercise in the middle of the night?”

Shiro slumps against the machine’s arm. “Sometimes it’s what I do at the Garrison. If I can’t sleep, I just go to the gym and try to work myself into being tired.” He glances at Keith. “Sorry to alarm you.”

“You haven not slept well since you arrived.”

Shiro’s expression looks confused. “How did you know? I haven’t wandered around until tonight.”

“From your biometrics.” Keith frowns and then holds out his padd. “Humans need sleep to store memories and to maintain homeostasis. I am concerned about you. Your heart rate indicates you are not entering regular human sleep cycles.”

Shiro touches his hand over his chest, giving a dry laugh. “Do I even want to know how you’re getting those readings?”

“My padd has sensory capabilities for the electric impulses coming from your heart.” Shiro seems taken aback and Keith suddenly fears he’s overstepped personal boundaries. “It is not meant to be invasive. It is simply to ensure your body is adjusting to post-hibernation and that you are well.” He hesitates for a tick. “Is that acceptable to you?”

“It’s fine.” Shiro shakes his head, a lopsided grin on his face. “I’m just, you know, not used to someone monitoring me just to be nice. Usually it’s more to make sure I don’t die.”

Keith takes a few steps into the training room. “I swear that under my protection you will not die.”

“After that display with your sword,” Shiro says, “I’m inclined to believe you.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to smooth down a bit in the back that’s sticking up. “I have to confess that I tried to look up more information about the Blades, but there’s not nearly as much as I was expecting in your repository portal.”

Keith shifts his weight. “What would you like to know?”

“Why the sword? Maybe I watched too many sci-fi movies, but I figured you’d have advanced laser weapons or, like, mind powers.”

Keith scoffs. “Mind powers?”

“You know, like a Jedi?” Shiro waggles his fingers at Keith. “Right. Nevermind.”

“You think I’m Luke Skywalker?”

The expression on Shiro's face is total wonder. “How the hell did you get that reference?”

“My dad. He told me stories of the Star Wars when I was little.”

Shiro beams. “Amazing. And no, not like Luke Skywalker. More like a young Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Of all the things he expected to talk about with Captain Shirogane, the Star Wars wasn’t one of them. “I am sorry to disappoint, but no Jedi powers. Just a lot of training. Years of it. At the Academy.”

“That still doesn’t explain the sword.”

“Technology fails. Swords, not so much.” Keith rolls his neck, trying to work out a kink. “We train with all sorts of weapons, but our blades are special.”

Shiro leans forward. “Special how?”

“They’re connected to us. Our souls.” Keith picks up his blade, turning the hilt towards Shiro, and the stone at its base flashes white.

Shiro is silent for a moment, staring at Keith’s blade. “Can you show me some of what you were taught? Like do you have forms or something?”

“Or something,” Keith says. He’s never had anyone ask for a demonstration, but then, he hasn’t ever spent time around humans. “All right. But you need to move back.” After a moment, he shakes his head. “Not far enough.” He waits until Shiro is along the back wall of the training room.

It feels a little strange to step into the middle of the room wearing only black leggings and a red sleeveless top; he’s so used to his Blade uniform that it feels odd to wield his weapon without armor on. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. His mom started teaching him when he was very small, making the movements into more of a dance to keep him entertained when his attention span wandered. She was patient with him, working alongside him until the moves became muscle memory. His dad, on the other hand, taught him how to wrestle, how to throw someone off balance who weighed more. They both showed him how his differences could be an advantage.

His body always felt so out of sync with the other Galra: too small, too scrawny, too weak. He didn’t have their fur or their fangs. His ears were long and tapered, but other than his lavender Galra markings around his hips and thighs, he looked far more human than anything else. The first time he’d sparred with another student in the Academy, the laughter of his peers rang off the high ceilings before the bout began. His opponent was twice his height, but Keith slid between their legs in the first moment, surprising them and knocking them to the ground. Keith wasn’t as strong then as he is now, but he was fast, and his dad always said that speed plus accuracy beats strong and angry every time.

Keith lifts his blade and swings in a wide arc, moving through the first sequence of a ceremonial form. He decides he wants to show off a little for Shiro. The ceremonial displays are more about celebration and they also showcase some more complex moves that wouldn’t necessarily be part of a battle. When he first learned this, he had to count every step, but it’s like breathing now, each movement as simple as speaking his own name. He takes a few quick steps and leaps into the air, flipping backwards to land softly on the balls of his feet. Aerial moves always came more naturally to him and he often drove his sparring partners mad by somersaulting over them and scoring points. It’s late and logically he knows he’s tired, but the adrenaline of showing Shiro this part of his life takes over, and he throws himself into the form, making his spins faster and his leaps higher. Shiro’s never seen a Blade before and it’s an honor to be the one to show him.

When he finally comes down into the finishing bow, Shiro bursts into loud applause. “Holy shit. That was amazing. It was like gymnastics meets krav maga meets fencing.”

Keith shakes his head, panting only a little. “I hope those are good things.”

“They are! I’m just saying I’ve never seen anything like it. I knew you’d be good, but I didn’t know you’d be this good.” He grins. “I can’t imagine what sparring with you is like.”

There’s a flash of something competitive in Shiro’s eyes, a slight adjustment in his stance, and Keith’s pulse quickens. Shiro wants to spar with him. “Are you asking?”

The scar over Shiro’s nose turns rosy as he flushes a little. “You did say you were concerned about me sleeping. It might help tire me out.”

“Fine.” Keith feels a smirk pull at his mouth as he carefully sets his blade aside. “It will be safer for you without weapons.”

Shiro tugs off his loose, hooded garment, revealing a white sleeveless shirt underneath. It’s the most Keith’s seen of his body. The muscular build his clothing hinted at is on display, sculpted shoulders and a firm chest tapering to small waist. One arm is entirely flesh, while the other is mostly prosthetic; pink scars encircle his right bicep where the metal attaches. That and the one on his face aren’t his only scars and Keith wonders about how he acquired them. “I actually teach hand to hand and sparring at the Garrison to the cadets.”

“I read your files.” Keith pulls his hair back. “I do not wish to hurt you, regardless. That is the opposite of my mission.”

Shiro lets out a laugh. “Very diplomatic of you. We’ll keep things friendly, yeah? Nothing above the neck and anyone can tap out at any time.”

Keith nods. “Agreed.”

They both move into position in the middle of the training space, eyes locked. Shiro, much like most of Keith’s former sparring partners at the Academy, is bigger than he is, heavier. Unlike most Galra, however, Shiro is lighter on his feet and he surprises Keith with a feint, followed by a graceful sweep of his ankle as he tries to knock Keith off balance. Keith dodges the move easily, but a rush of adrenaline surges through him. This might actually be fun.

Keith leaps and tests out a few quick jabs, wanting to see how Shiro reacts. He’s not trying to land any hits yet. This isn’t combat, it’s play, but Keith has never been someone who likes to lose. Shiro’s knocked off guard by Keith’s speed, but he blocks them, his eyes wide. “Damn, you’re fast,” he grunts.

Keith gives him a half-smile in response, dancing back when Shiro swings wide. He grabs Shiro’s left shoulder and uses the momentum of Shiro’s attempt to throw him to the padded floor, hearing his sharp exhale as his body hits the ground. Shiro rolls up immediately. “Strong, too.”

It’s a little difficult not to be distracted by Shiro's attractive physique, the flex of his thighs in his dark grey sleep pants or the squeeze of his pectoral muscles as he pulls back for another blow, but Keith manages. There’s no question that Shiro has an exciting, unpredictable rhythm to his moves. He shifts his weight, dips and dodges before taking quick swings at Keith. There are moments when Shiro comes dangerously close and Keith feels the air from Shiro’s fist graze his cheek. Keith knows he’s grinning now, his breath coming faster. He springs back, landing on one hand before vaulting back up and landing lightly on his toes.

“It’s not even fair the way you fly around. Are you sure you don’t have wings?” Shiro’s comment comes out punched with his breath as he tries to get close again and misses Keith once more.

Shiro leaves his left guard open and Keith takes the opportunity, landing a soft blow against Shiro’s ribs, more of a warning sign than anything else. “No wings, promise.” Keith sweeps behind him, tapping him on the hip before dodging away from Shiro’s grasp.

Shiro hasn’t slept well for several quintants; the dark circles under his eyes are telling. When Shiro does finally land a blow against Keith’s shoulder, even his pulled hit is hard enough to likely leave a bruise. Even when he’s tired, it’s easy to see how strong he is, how much power is behind each move. A little bit of desperation has entered his choices now, his swings a little wider. If he wanted to, Keith could end the match, but he doesn’t. It’s far too exciting to watch Shiro spar and he wants to keep it going just a bit longer.

Shiro takes two hits to the ribs and doesn’t flinch, grabbing Keith’s right bicep in his prosthetic. It’s incredibly well-balanced and if Keith didn’t couldn’t see its metal gleaming under the lights, he might not have even realized it wasn’t flesh. He hears Shiro let out a soft “ha!”, but before Shiro can revel, Keith breaks out of his hold, even though it takes all of his strength. He falls backwards, but catches himself in a roll before he springs up again.

“God, you’re slippery,” Shiro grunts.

“You could have nearly had me there,” Keith says, making a show of rubbing his bicep.

Shiro scoffs. “Are you just fucking with me?”

“Of course I am not. I will have bruises tomorrow.”

Shiro presses his advantage, landing another blow on Keith’s hip. “I’ll have more than you, I think.”

“We have a tea for that, too.”

Another few doboshes pass and they’re both panting, sweat slicking their necks and collarbones. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d think he could actually smell Shiro from where he stands. Then again, humans did like scents; maybe he is getting a whiff of some type of underarm sweat protection product. Shiro’s getting sloppy now. His moves are a little slower, his steps a bit less sure. The last thing he wants, though, is to take Shiro down on a misstep. Instead, he waits for Shiro to put himself into a position where he actually can land a hit on Keith, a decent one. The blow comes, a sharp hit to his side, but it gives Keith the opening he needs to grab Shiro’s left arm and haul him overhead, bringing him down to the mat with a gasp. In a tick, Keith’s got him pinned, straddling over his hips, pressing him down with all his strength. With his forearm braced against Shiro, he can feel his heaving chest, the pounding of his pulse.

He’s never seen anything like him.

“Do you yield?” Keith asks, his voice low, aware of how fast his own heart is beating.

Shiro pants, gaze fixed on him. His muscles go slack under Keith’s body. “Yeah.”

“Wait,” Keith says, patting Shiro’s chest. “No yield. A draw. I will not call a victory when you are exhausted.” He pushes himself off of Shiro, reaching down to offer him a hand. “I want to spar with you again when you’re rested.”

Shiro’s smile is a little bashful as he takes Keith’s offered hand, letting Keith pull him to his feet. “You could have taken me down like ten doboshes ago.”

“That would not have been fun at all. You are very clever, not to mention strong.” Keith grabs a few towels from a cupboard on the far wall, draping one around Shiro’s shoulders. “I could learn a few things from Garrison sparring.”

Shiro rubs the back of his neck. “And our Garrison could learn about five hundred from you.”

The rush of their match has Keith’s body humming, adrenaline still racing through his veins. “How are you feeling?”

“Ahh, a little humble.” Shiro dabs at the sweat along his hairline. “Can I be honest?”

“Are you not usually?” Keith gets two water pouches and hands one to Shiro.

“Oh, I meant it as a figure of speech.” Shiro shakes his head, taking a long drink. “I underestimated you. You’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever met. It's no wonder you're a bodyguard with moves like that.”

A bit of a flush rises on Keith’s throat. “You are kind.”

“All I’m saying,” Shiro says, touching Keith’s shoulder as he walks by, “is that with you by my side, I know I’ll be safe.”

It makes him proud that Shiro feels this way. Keith follows him, picking up his blade as they head back towards their rooms. “Do you think you can rest now?”

Shiro yawns, giving him a tired smile. “”Night, Keith.”

“Goodnight, Shiro.”

It takes Keith’s breathing a while to finally settle once he climbs back in bed, and even longer to fall asleep.

++

The two quintants before the coalition ramp up into a marathon of briefings. Shiro’s back in dress uniforms after a brief respite in more casual clothes, and as Madara Station begins to flood with delegates and envoys from other galaxies, the collection of hidden weapons on Keith’s person increases. During their few quiet quintants together, Keith didn’t have to spend every waking moment consumed with Shiro’s protection; he was able to focus more on helping Shiro get acclimated and settled. Now, however, his real mission is about to begin.

Shiro seems to notice his seriousness on the way to the first briefing. “You’re quiet.”

“What?” Keith’s gaze tracks a cloaked figure ahead of them down the hall.

“I said you’re quiet this morning.” Shiro leans a little closer to him. “You seem a little edgy.”

“Not edgy,” Keith repeats. “Focused.”

“Ah.” Shiro drinks the tea Keith insisted he make in the suite rather than getting whatever is on offer in the meeting room. “You take your work very seriously.”

Keith glances at him. His forelock curls over his temple, brilliant white that matches his uniform. Shiro’s small grin only makes him look more charming. “Protecting you,” Keith says softly, “is very important to me.”

Of course it is. He’s a Blade. It’s his responsibility, and a big one at that. If Earth enters the coalition, it could change both of their galaxies. It’s why this matters so much. Why Shiro matters so much.

The briefings last for vargas and Keith flexes his feet, trying to restore a bit of circulation after standing at attention for so long. They’ve offered him a chair but he refuses, standing behind Shiro against the wall of the massive great room. He’s not about to let Shiro out of his sight for a moment, even following him to the luxurious bathrooms. The first time he does, Shiro gives him a quizzical look as he rubs his palms together under a gleaming box on the wall. “You think something bad’s going to happen while I’m standing by the cleaning dispenser?”

“No, nothing bad will happen because I am with you.”

After the briefings come dinners, and after the dinners come drinks, and Keith loses count of the number of envoys and diplomats who want to corner Shiro with their translators. Some are curious, genuinely interested in asking him questions, and Shiro gives them smiles, putting on a laugh that’s different from the ones Keith’s heard. It’s a bit too loud, a little forced. It occurs to Keith as he watches Shiro interact with the others that perhaps there is something performative about his mannerisms, something a bit stiffer than Keith’s seen in time together in the suite.

The curious ones don’t bother Keith, although the way they flit around Shiro like Kyllaxian sandflies is a bit annoying. It’s the ones that stare that set Keith’s jaw on edge. Some appear to be sizing Shiro up, as if they’re about to enter a battle ring with him, while others, well. There’s no question what their interest is about. Keith stays close, pulling himself up to his full height. His stomach twists as he watches them fixate. Shiro’s never been in a room like this, never been surrounded by any creatures but humans. There’s so many things Shiro doesn’t know, the politics, the cultural mores, and for a brief tick Keith wonders what he’d do if Shiro decides to go back to another diplomat’s suite. It had not occurred to him that Shiro might desire physical companionship during the coalition. He hopes he doesn’t have to find out, because it will only make protecting Shiro that much more difficult.

Keith tugs at his collar. It’s hotter in the ballroom than he thought.

When the evening before the coalition begins sways to a close, Shiro sets aside his water and he and Keith head back to their suite. It’s silent as they take the lift to their floor. “You are the quiet one now,” Keith says.

Shiro glances at him and then towards the floor. “Guess everything starts tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Keith opens the suite, checking all the safety protocols before allowing Shiro entrance. He’s doubled up on his usual routine, running new diagnostics on the system three times a quintant. “You must feel excited.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Shiro says, but he doesn’t sound that way.

“Perhaps you might want to spar? If that will help you rest better for tomorrow?” Keith has been dreaming of sparring with Shiro again. He’s rarely had a partner he enjoyed so much.

“I’m sorry, Keith. I’m kind of done in after all that talking.” Shiro rubs the back of his neck. “Another night?”

Keith tries not to let his disappointment show. “Of course.”

Things will be different now that the coalition is starting, Keith realizes. Shiro has to stay focused on his task, and Keith on his. It’s a strange feeling, Keith concedes, to miss a person he spent all quintant with, and stranger still for that person to be someone he didn’t know last week. Then again, the Academy was very clear on missions of this kind. Connections formed fast between bodyguards and principals. Trust had to be built quickly, but it was important not to allow that to cloud a Blade’s judgement.

It wouldn’t be an intergalactic peace coalition unless the first two quintants are solid introductions and speeches in thirty-two different languages. On one hand, it’s very easy to guard Shiro when he spends nearly all his time in a chair at a banquet table. On the other, the sheer wall of noise, the endless intoning from dignitaries, makes it a little more difficult to fight against boredom. He watches the room, but mostly he watches Shiro, seeing the tension in his shoulders when new diplomats come speak to him or the kind way he treats the staff that bring them food and drink.

The third quintant is a cavalcade of meetings, but fortunately ones in a series of smaller rooms that are easier to protect Shiro in. While all of the diplomats hail from planets large and small across many known galaxies, the one thing that nearly all of them have in common is that they all seem to clamor for the end of the talks and the refreshments that follow. On their way to one of the Station’s ballrooms that evening, Shiro casts a glance at Keith. “What do you know about the alcohol they serve here?”

Keith’s surprised. He’s only seen Shiro drink tea and water thus far. “You wish to sample some of the intoxicating beverages?”

Shiro lets out a long breath. “I don’t usually, but I mean, I’m here, right? At an intergalactic peace coalition representing Earth?” A laugh escapes him, but Shiro doesn’t seem amused. “I think I just need to maybe relax a little bit. Could you maybe tell me what’s good? I don’t want anything too strong, but just something to take the edge off?”

Shiro’s been a little hesitant with him the past two quintants, a little quieter. Keith knows he’s been feeling stress. He doesn’t need his biometric readouts to confirm that, even though they do. “I can help,” Keith affirms. He follows Shiro over to one of the numerous bars set up around the space. “Would you like something a bit sweeter?”

A small grin curves Shiro’s mouth. “I am a little obvious, I guess.”

Keith points out a few different options that are enhanced with fruit, choosing drinks with lower alcohol content. He’s not sure how well Shiro’s body will metabolize them, especially as he doesn’t seem to consume them regularly, but then again, Shiro is not a small human, according to his files. Perhaps the drinks will not affect him much.  
Several vargas later, as Keith guides a wobbly Shiro out of the ballroom, it’s clear that he has very little tolerance at all. He’s barely able to walk under his own power and Keith has to hold him up in the lift, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him upright.

“You,” Shiro says, his words a little slow, “are the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He smells like summerfruits from Ballina 5.

“You,” Keith says, “are quite intoxicated.”

“Pshh.” Shiro snickers. “I’m a little tipsy.” He bumps his hip against Keith’s. “Whoops. My bad.”

“How many drinks did you have?” Keith asks, slinging Shiro’s prosthetic arm around the back of his neck to help support his weight.

“I’m not sure.” He glances down at the blade hanging from Keith’s hip. “Can I hold your sword?”

“No sharp objects for you.” He tugs Shiro through the open doors of the lift towards their suite. “Come on.”

“I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.” Shiro’s knees wobble a little underneath him.

“I have you.” It takes a bit of maneuvering to get Shiro down the hall to their suite, and Keith prays to all ten gods that nothing awful will befall them while Keith’s favorite weapon hand is tied up trying to keep Shiro upright. He breathes a sigh of relief when he gets Shiro safely inside and can implement their security protocols. “You are big,” Keith grunts.

Shiro lets out a stuttered laugh. “I’m not that big.”

Keith nudges him towards the couch, letting him down easily. “Okay. Okay. Easy now.” Shiro collapses on the cushions, head tipped back and legs spread.

“Is it, like, really hot in here?” He fans his face with one hand for a moment before undoing the top button of his jacket. “I’m roasting.”

Keith sighs. “You need to drink water. I will get some.” He crosses to the small kitchen and retrieves several water pouches, and when he returns to the sitting area, he finds Shiro has removed his shoes and jacket, and is stripped down to a thin, white short-sleeved shirt. His hair is mussed, falling over his forehead, and under the low lights, Shiro’s face is flushed. He grins as Keith gets closer, accepting the water pouch, which Keith helpfully opened for him so he wouldn’t have to watch Shiro struggle.

Shiro drinks some water, sloshing a little down his shirt. He snorts a laugh. “Wet t-shirt contest!”

“I am unfamiliar.”

“Earth thing. It's dumb.” Shiro waves his hand, which only serves to drop a bit more water on him. “It’s when you get stupid drunk and you dump water on yourself so people can see through your shirt.”

Keith shakes his head. “Why do you not just take off your shirt in this scenario?”

“Oh!” Shiro brightens. “You want me to?”

There’s something about the way Shiro looks at him that only makes Keith want to protect him more. He sits down on the couch next to him, taking off his blade but keeping it to his side. “I want you to rest.”

“Rest. Rest is okay.” Shiro lets his head fall back again before reaching out to take Keith’s wrist, pulling his hand over to Shiro’s chest. “Keith. Here. Feel this.”

Keith frowns, flexing his fingers. “What am I feeling?”

“My heart.” Shiro presses Keith’s hand against his chest a little harder. “You think I’m gonna die?”

Keith can feel it now, Shiro’s heartbeat drumming hard and fast against his ribs. There’s something almost pleasant about it, the steady beat tapping against his palm, even though he knows Shiro’s heart is only beating like that because of the alcohol. “I think with a little hydration and sleep, you will survive.”

Keith moves to pull his hand back, but Shiro holds his wrist gently for a moment longer before letting it go. “I drank too much.”

“Yes, you did. But you will metabolize it.”

Shiro covers his face with his prosthetic. “Now you think I’m stupid.”

The alcohol has clearly had an effect on Shiro’s processing skills. “What does having an alcoholic beverage have to do with your intelligence?”

He sighs, tipping over a little on the couch until he’s slumped closer to Keith. “And now you don’t like me.”

“Shiro. Of course I do.”

“But I’m your job, so you have to like me.”

“I do not have to like anyone.” He taps Shiro’s knee. “Please drink. I would not ask if I didn’t like you.” A half smile appears on his face. He really does like Shiro. It’s not becoming for a Blade to be so familiar with a principal, but it’s not as if anyone is watching them in the suite and at the moment, Keith doesn’t care. Shiro’s upset and all Keith wants to do is try to change his inebriated mind.

Shiro sips at his water pouch and lets out a puff of air. “Why are you even assigned to protect me? I’m not important.”

Perhaps the beverages have made Shiro lose all reason. “You are the first diplomat from Earth to ever participate in an intergalactic peace coalition. You might help change the future. Why do you think you are not important?”

“I’m only here because I was a sick little kid. The fucking treatments I got made me more immune to radiation. It’s not because they actually wanted me.”

“They chose you. I read your files. You are a hero to your people.”

“I’m not.” He groans. “Admiral Sanda tried to block me from the mission. But because no one else could make the trip and survive, well, here I am.”

“Not everyone will believe in you,” Keith says. He knows this from experience. “So you have to.”

“Do you have any idea,” Shiro says, his voice a little shaky, “what it was like on that ship?”

Keith shakes his head. “I am not very familiar with Earth crafts. But I know you were alone.”

“The hibernation didn’t work the first time.” Shiro’s flesh fist clenches and releases. “The meds didn’t put me out and I was naked in a dark box and could barely breathe.”

Keith’s stomach twists painfully at the thought. “How long were you like that?”

“I can’t remember. A long time.” He slumps forward, holding his face in his hands. “Shit, my head hurts.”

Keith knows he shouldn’t be so forward, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stand how Shiro’s voice has gotten tight, how his knee shakes. “Shiro,” he says, clearing his throat. “Do I have permission to hug you?”

Shiro uncurls, sitting up. “What?” His face is flushed and his eyes look a little wet. “I mean, sure?”

Turning to face Shiro, he reaches out, wrapping his arms around him. He’s broad and warm, even as his body trembles under Keith’s hands. “You were very brave to come here.”

Shiro’s hands press against Keith’s back as he relaxes a little, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “More crazy than brave.”

Keith can feel Shiro’s breathing slow down a little as he hugs him. In his experience, Galra are very tactile people, especially among close knit or family groups, and Keith’s used to getting more physical affection than he’s had since departing for this mission. Even though he doesn’t know Shiro as well, he still feels a flush of pleasant warmth run through him at the pressure of Shiro’s arms around him. He smooths his hand down Shiro’s back, feeling the strength of the muscles there under his palm.

He expects Shiro to pull away, or let go, but he doesn’t. He just keeps holding on, his grip tight, as if Keith is a tether line keeping Shiro from drifting off into deep space. A dobosh passes, and another. Realization crystalizes in Keith’s mind. Shiro is lonely. He’s been away from Earth for far longer than the extent of the coalition. It’s easy to forget that. “You should rest,” Keith says, voice quiet. He starts to adjust himself slightly and feels the weight of Shiro’s head on his shoulder.

Shiro is asleep.

Keith lets out a breath, trying to figure out how to disentangle them in a way that won’t disturb him. Using one arm, he reaches underneath Shiro’s thigh, shifting Shiro’s weight against Keith’s lap until he can pick him up. As strong as Keith is for his size, he struggles a bit to get to his feet, holding Shiro close to make sure he doesn’t slip out of his grasp. When he starts to carefully walk towards Shiro’s quarters, he stirs against Keith. “Where’re you… taking me,” he slurs.

“To your room. You need sleep.”

“Can walk.” Shiro doesn’t help matters as he tries to put his feet down and nearly trips them both on the way across the suite.

“Almost there.” Gripping Shiro’s ribcage, he half steers, half drags him into the room, settling him on the edge of the bed with a grunt. “Just lie down, please?”

Shiro fusses with the waist of his pants, swearing under his breath. “Shit.”

“Let me.” Keith isn’t exactly sure how all Earth clothing works, but he’s seen buttons and zippers on his dad’s things growing up. Tex hasn’t retired all of his old clothes and he seems to enjoy the odd looks he gets from time to time from other Galra. Keith undoes the buttons and then slides off Shiro’s pants. As he picks up Shiro’s ankles and lifts them onto the bed, he notices how thick and strong Shiro’s legs are. There is no part of him, it seems, that is not attractive.

“You should drink. You--” A faint noise rises from below, a quiet snore. Shiro’s asleep again, his head tipped onto the pillow and his limbs loose. The room is a little chilly thanks to the settings Keith made to improve Shiro’s sleep, so he fetches a blanket and spreads it over him before putting a water pouch by his bed. He watches Shiro’s slow breathing for a moment. An odd thought rises in the back of his mind, one that suggests he should stay with Shiro. He shakes it away. He’s done protection work before, but he’s never felt the urge to actually lie down next to his principal. He rubs his eyes and rakes his hand through his hair. Maybe he’s not getting enough sleep, or maybe all the fancy food of the Station is messing with him.

After taking off his uniform and carefully placing his weapons in their respective places beside his bed and under his pillow, he climbs under the sheets, still trying to parse the strangeness of his thoughts. He brings up his padd, scanning through the files on Shiro. He can’t understand how Shiro can’t see his own importance. Every media file on him calls him the “Garrison Golden Boy”, his face splashed over publications and his interviews the features of newsfeeds. Apart from whatever Shiro said about his admiral, he seems beloved by his people. Keith wonders if that’s what he’s feeling, that loyalty that the files all point to, the way that his peers and comrades trust him. He falls asleep with the padd still playing one of Shiro’s media appearances, his soft voice soothing Keith to sleep.

++

Keith wakes staring at his hands, heart pounding and breathless. There was blood all over them only moments before. Shiro’s blood.

Dreaming. You were dreaming.

He exhales, trying to get control of his breathing. Gods, it had been so real. He jumps out of bed, grabbing the dagger from under his blankets before racing out of his room to Shiro’s quarters.

“Keith?” Shiro’s dressed in his formal whites except for his jacket as he rubs a small metal object over his face. Steam from a cup of tea rises up from the counter. He looks a little tired, but if he’s hungover, it’s difficult to tell. “I, uh, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in pajamas.” A little smile creeps onto Shiro’s face. “The knife’s a good touch, though.”

Keith glances down and realizes he’s shirtless, wearing only his loose pajama pants, his dagger at his side. “Yes. I did not mean to disturb you. Just wanted to be sure you were all right.”

Shiro puts down the object, which Keith realizes now is an Earth razor, and he sips his tea. “I owe you an apology for last night. I promise I won’t be drinking anymore during this coalition.”

“There is no need to apologize.” Shiro’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You have had a lot to process during this trip. Perhaps you needed a little escape.”

“Thank God I was with you. You’re the kindest person in the galaxy, taking care of my drunk ass.” Shiro bites his lip. “I kind of wish this coalition would last longer. I’ve gotten used to having you around, you know?”

Keith’s stomach tightens and he presses a hand over his abdomen as if that will relieve the feeling. “Yes.” He suddenly doesn’t want to think about the end of the coalition, about how it will feel to put Shiro back on that awful ship and see him leave.

“Hey. You look a little pale. You sure you’re okay?” Shiro takes a step towards him, but Keith moves in the direction of the door.

“Just need food.” He backs up gracelessly. “I will get ready. Excuse me.”

It only takes Keith doboshes to dress and prepare for the quintant, but the snatches of his dream keep repeating like the chorus of the songs his dad likes from Earth. He’s not used to remembering his dreams, and even though he can’t recall the thread of what happened, he knows Shiro was gravely hurt. Keith counts his weapons once, twice. His appetite is gone, but he forces himself to eat a few slices of fruit from their breakfast tray.

There’s an ease to this morning that’s been missing the past few quintants and Keith’s grateful. He’s not sure how much Shiro remembers from their conversation night before, but Shiro seems a little lighter. He points at one of the new art holograms outside their suite, which looks suspiciously like a very large pair of testicles. “I didn’t think they’d have the balls to put that there, you know?” Keith snorts at the joke, trying and failing to keep a straight face, and Shiro grins. “You know a lot more slang than I thought you would.”

“My dad always spoke English at home. When my mom got annoyed with him, I knew he was using words she didn’t want me to use.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Keith stays vigilant while they talk, watching the other diplomats and staff as they pass. “The ones you say when you are upset. Fuck. Shit. She also did not like ‘shut up’.”

“Ha! My grandmother hated that one, too.”

Keith’s mind wants to wander as the meetings begin, but he trains it on the room instead, forcing it to heel. His Academy training had left him with a handful of scars, but as hard as it had been, he didn’t regret it. It taught him who he was, how to fight, and even more importantly, how to avoid a fight whenever possible. Seeing so many species in one room all talking about future plans and peace is, Keith has to admit, kind of awe-inspiring. Bringing Earth into the larger intergalactic conversation had seemed impossible when Keith was younger, but now, that might change. Because of Shiro.

The quintant passes quickly in spite of all the talking and during the last session of the afternoon when Shiro takes the floor to share some words on behalf of his Garrison, he’s not surprised how at ease Shiro is in front of them all. He’s playing a role, Keith can see that now, but it’s no different than Keith during bodyguard missions. He’s charming and even gets a group of cranky envoys from Vessiq to stomp their feet in approval.

“You were very good,” Keith says, walking beside Shiro as they head to Madara Station’s largest reception hall for the evening’s festivities. A live orchestra plays soft music over the din of the crowd as Shiro flashes him a smile.

“It’s easy when you have the speech written out to read, you know?”

“I do not like speaking like that.” Keith follows behind Shiro as a waitstaff leads them to their table.

“One of the biggest fears on Earth is public speaking, would you believe it?” Shiro settles into his seat, indicating the one next to him. “Sit. Our Blades are supposed to join us at the table tonight.”

Right. Keith had gotten a message on his padd earlier about that. He sits, but his leg muscles are tense under the table. He doesn’t like when he can’t see the room. “What other fears are common on Earth?”

“Hmm. Obviously, people are scared of dying or losing people they love, but I’m sure that’s pretty universal. Um, heights, flying, needles, snakes, deep water, enclosed spaces, big crowds.” He sips his water. “Spiders. A lot of people are not into spiders.”

Keith holds up his hands, splaying out his fingers. He has seen images of them. “Eight legs, right?” Shiro nods and Keith laughs. “I think Earth will be surprised at the number of legs creatures have in the galaxy.” He nudges Shiro’s forearm with his elbow. “So. Are spiders your greatest fear?”

A flash of surprise crosses Shiro’s face and he glances away as he brushes back his forelock. “No. I’m, ah, kind of predictable, I guess, after what I said last night.” He looks down at the table, his shoulders slumped. “I’m not really looking forward to the return trip. Being alone like that freaks me out.”

A tiny part of Keith’s brain lights up. He was right. Shiro is lonely. Keith opens his mouth to respond when the dignitary next to Shiro nearly shouts his name, inserting themselves into the conversation, and Keith sighs, grumbling under his breath. There’s no stopping them now that they’ve started and poor Shiro’s getting an earful. There’s more security tonight than before since the Blades are dining with their diplomats, but he still feels the tug to watch the doors and monitor the crowd, which is difficult to do from his seat.

The dignitary takes up a good twenty doboshes of Shiro’s time and then comes speeches, food courses, and for extra flavor, more speeches. Every time the noise dies down enough for Keith to talk, another emissary at the time jumps in and Keith’s left with just his thoughts. Maybe this isn’t a great time to discuss personal fears. It’s probably better suited for a conversation on the way back to their suite. He wonders if perhaps Shiro could spend a bit of time with the Blades when the coalition is over. The thought of Shiro talking with his dad is almost too good to pass up. It’s been over twenty years since Tex’s talked with another human, and Shiro’s so curious about the galaxy, so open to learning more. It seems like a terrible misuse of his harrowing trip to simply have Shiro return immediately.

Waitstaff appear, distributing small glasses of something bubbly, placing them at each setting for the representatives. The coalition council rises to their feet, holding their flutes aloft. “We offer a tribute to all of our diplomats, dignitaries, emissaries, and envoys. Please rise so we may show our gratitude to you.”

Shiro glances at Keith, his expression concerned, and Keith surreptitiously swaps their glasses, making sure he gets sparkling water instead. When the tribute is done, Shiro gives Keith’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Thank you for saving me from myself. I can’t do a repeat of last night.”

“You were a very pleasant inebriated person for the most part."

“Would you do a toast with me?” Shiro asks, lifting his glass again.

“What?”

“A tribute. To the future. Our future.” Shiro clears his throat. “You know. Earth and the Galra.”

“Yes. Of course.” He lifts his glass, clinking it with Shiro’s.

“To us.”

“To us.” Keith takes a drink and he can’t help but stare at Shiro. It’s been a miracle he could look at anything else since the week began.

Fuck.

This isn’t about bodyguards and principals or Shiro's ability to charm. It’s much bigger than that. It’s bigger, because Keith’s never felt anything like it before. He _likes_ Shiro. He has feelings for Shiro, big ones, ones that make his insides quake and his pulse trip. He takes another sip of his drink, and another. His tolerance for alcohol is incredibly high thanks to his genetics and he knows the drink won’t affect him, but the act of sipping it at least has a placebo effect.

“Is that good?” Shiro asks, tilting his head at the drink.

“Yes,” Keith says. “A little bitter, but good.” He wonders if Shiro knows. Has he been obvious? But then, what would obvious even mean? Keith hasn’t even been able to tell until this moment what was going on, so maybe he’s done a better job hiding his feelings than he thought. He hopes so. He needs time to think, to process what this means. He wants to leave this room and get some air. Everything feels so close.

“I think there’s some free time in the morning before the final ceremony,” Shiro says. “Do you think we could take that speeder out again?”

“I think perhaps--” He stops, suddenly aware that the lights in the ballroom are going in and out. “Shiro.” A wave of nausea rips through him and he clutches his stomach. “Shit.”

“Keith!” Shiro’s hand grips his wrist, warm, tight. “What’s wrong?”

“Feel weird,” Keith grunts, his head swimming. “Bad.” He leans on the table, trying to steady his breathing. Pain wraps around his middle as his head goes light. “Shiro.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s hands are suddenly on both sides of his face, two grounding points as the world sways. “Look at me.”

He tries, but focusing seems beyond his capacity. It’s hard to think, hard to feel anything except for the nausea. He needs to get up. They need to get out. He tries to move, but his legs refuse to cooperate.

Shiro’s fingers press along Keith’s jaw. “You need a medic. I’m going to get help. Hold on.”

“Shiro, no.” He can’t get out any more words. For a moment, the room spins and he feels himself slither out of the chair and onto the cold, metal floor. He blinks, trying to hold on to consciousness. Everything goes gray, then white, followed by darkness.

And then, it snaps back. Color returns. Voices above him. Someone’s touching his chest. It’s all buzzing at first, and then the words break through. “...think he’s coming around.”

Keith sits up, knocking aside the hands of a Blade he recognizes but whose name he can’t remember. His stomach still hurts, but far less than it had. “Where’s… Shiro,” he gasps, trying to get his bearings. He’s on the floor. The ballroom. He smells vomit. He must have thrown up.

“Take it easy, Keith. Authorities are coming. It was probably poison, they--”

They try to touch his shoulder, and Keith growls. “Shiro.”

The Blades look at him, shaking their heads. “He was right here a dobosh ago.”

Before they can say another word, Keith forces himself to his feet, grateful his body’s obeying him again. Poison. He drank what was meant for Shiro. He scans the area around them, aware of dozens of eyes on him, and then takes off through the crowd, scattering dignitaries in his wake. On the far side of the chamber, the orchestra plays a melody Keith’s never heard, the tempo erratic as Keith’s heartbeat. The ballroom smells of something strong, something sharp and clean, like a forest after a rainstorm. It’s a scent he likes, something he’s familiar with but he can’t place exactly what. As he races across the room, it grows stronger.

Shiro.

It smells like Shiro.

He follows the scent out of the ballroom, leaving its dazzling brilliance behind and running into the shadows of an adjoining corridor, where it disappears behind an emergency door. Keith flings the door open and rushes in, his eyes immediately adjusting to the darkness. Service lights flood the corridor, drenching the space in red. Keith inhales, his nose filling with the scent again, leading him further along the passageway. Every step screams at how wrong this is, at how Shiro was going for a medic, about how he never would have left the ballroom. Someone is trying to hurt him. To kill him. He turns a corner and his stomach goes sour with a new smell.

Blood.

A shout goes up, ringing along the metal walls. Keith races towards the sound, blade in one hand and dagger in the other. The drive to find Shiro is all-consuming now, dominating every thought. The corridor opens up into a large circular chamber, surrounded on all sides by glowing purple wires, like some kind of central data hub for the Station. He hears Shiro hiss in pain, the sound of metal breaking, and Keith yells Shiro’s name. The room is a maze of servers and Keith pushes through, cutting some of them down to get to him more quickly. When he finally arrives in the middle of the room, he finds Shiro fighting against a masked assailant. His prosthetic dangles loosely at his side, and blood spatters the ground around Shiro’s body, smearing his perfect dress whites with red.

The screaming in Keith’s head reaches a fever pitch. _Must protect. Must protect Shiro._

Keith’s only felt his teeth go sharp in his mouth once. He was on a solo mission to rescue Regris when he was ambushed by a violent group of weapons dealers, and Keith ended up pinned to the floor with an electrified halberd buried in his shoulder. In a haze of blood and pain, his body started to change, fear turning into ferocity in his veins. That night he faced twenty on his own and won, saving himself and Regris and earning a wicked scar under his collarbone.

What happened to his body then is happening now. He cuts his tongue on a fang and tastes iron in his mouth. He knows by the way the lights change--brighter, shadows clearer--that his eyes have altered, the pupils slits, irises yellow. His heart pumps harder as his body floods with adrenaline. He’s stronger, faster, focused.

It’s hard to speak, hard to form words, but he drags them out of his mouth. “Get away from him,” Keith snarls.

Shiro looks up and gasps in relief, still struggling to fight while Keith advances. “Keith!” The assailant’s knife comes down as Keith leaps.

It only takes a tick.

Keith has always had to be faster than his peers, faster than his enemies, but this time, he’s not fast enough. The blade drives into Shiro’s side. Shiro’s cry shakes something loose in Keith, something feral, as the acrid smell of fresh blood rakes Keith’s senses.

Keith slams into the masked figure, knocking them off of Shiro and across the room. They hit the ground hard, but quickly recover, attempting to get on their feet as a scream rips from Keith’s throat. The assailant has weapons in both hands, slashing at Keith’s arms, but Keith bears down on them, blocking each move blow for blow. It’s like the fight slows down into half-time, their movements forecast before they even make them. Keith’s mind has one mantra: protect Shiro.

He’s three blows into their fight when Keith realizes that the assailant must have trained with the Blades. Everything about their movements reminds him of vargas in the training rooms, repeating cycles of drills until they became muscle memory. He blocks their strikes, taking every inch, pressing every advantage, as he attempts to pin them into a corner. In the Academy, fights were to the mat, to first blood. Keith doesn’t want first blood now. He wants to tear them apart.

The assailant’s starting to get sloppy. Keith’s managed to get one solid strike to their left bicep and they can no longer grip a weapon in that hand, but they’re unwilling to surrender. He starts up a barrage of blows, backing them against the wall, giving them nowhere to go. The assailant panics, diving at Keith like a wild animal, but instead, Keith catches them by the throat and with all his strength, flings them at the wall. Their body crashes into the wires and lands gracelessly on the floor.

Shiro. Shiro. Shiro.

Keith drops to his knees next to him. Shiro's blood seeps into the knees of his uniform. His hands, suddenly shaking, touch Shiro’s face, and a brilliant flash of light erupts between them, drenching the dark space in momentary illumination.

 _Must protect mate. Must protect mate._ His mate. Shiro is his mate.

Keith opens his eyes against the brightness as it fades. “Shiro. Gods, Shiro. You’re my--”

Shiro’s pained whine cuts off Keith’s words. His body writhes, shuddering. There’s a streak of blood in his hair. More pools on the floor. How long had he fought before Keith arrived? “Keith, it hurts.”

Keith’s chest tightens, his breath stops. He didn’t get there in time. His mate is injured. Under his fingertips, the pulse at Shiro’s neck stutters. If he doesn’t move fast, Shiro could die. He won’t let it happen. He can’t. “I will save you.”

There isn’t time to think, just move. He needs to get to his ship. Reaching down, he slips his arms underneath Shiro’s body, lifting him. Shiro flinches, letting out a cry before he goes limp in Keith’s grip, and Keith barely registers that Shiro’s still breathing before he takes off in a run down the corridor. This, this, is why he memorized the entire layout of Madara Station. It’s why he knows the service routes, the back entrances, the shortcuts through the maze. It was all for Shiro then and it’s all for him now.

Every movement, every choice, is pure reaction. When he skids into the hangar, panting for breath, he has no fucking clue how he made it to his ship, but he doesn’t care. His ship reacts to the presence of his blade, lights flickering on as Keith gets closer. The hatch opens and Keith climbs in, maneuvering his way towards the cockpit with Shiro held against his chest. He bites his tongue between his teeth, no longer feeling fangs. His feral state has dropped now that they’re not in danger anymore. He can feel a warm patch on his uniform where blood has seeped through the fabric.

“Hold on, Shiro. Hold on.” He murmurs soft words, one arm wrapped around Shiro and the other flying over the console, bringing up coordinates for the closest Blade base. He can’t remember the last time he used autopilot on this ship, but he inputs the command and the ship lurches beneath him, rising up before it launches. Only one hangar door is open and staff scramble on the ground to get out of the way as they gain speed, slipping through the forcefield and out into the stars.

Once they’re free of the base’s atmosphere, a message arrives; one of the closest Blade bases has picked up the emergency signal on Keith’s ship and before him, a wormhole opens up. Without hesitation, Keith hits the override. He’s not sure which one he’s going to, but nothing matters except getting Shiro away from the Station and towards help as fast as he can.

In his arms, Shiro groans, his breathing sharp and fast, like he’s not getting enough air. The weight of everything that just happened hits Keith with the force of a blow, sending him to his knees as he carefully settles his mate on the floor. His mate.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Keith says, keeping one hand on Shiro’s chest as the other reaches for the medikit under the console.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “You found me.”

“Just lie still. I have you.” He cuts through the fabric of Shiro’s jacket, drawing it back to reveal a deep puncture wound on his right side under his ribs. Keith swallows back bile at the amount of blood. He’s been trained in field medicine, but there’s a big difference between a Blade mission and this. The medikit picks up on Shiro’s vitals immediately, displaying a rapid, erratic heartbeat and a decreased oxygen level. He needs to stop the bleeding and try to control Shiro’s pain, because if he goes into shock while they’re still on the ship, Keith won’t be able to mitigate that with his limited supplies. Having something specific to focus on helps dull the litany in his mind, the one screaming to care for his mate.

There are a few other surface wounds, but the one in Shiro’s side is by far the most worrying. The muscles of Shiro’s abdomen tremble as Keith digs through the medikit, finding a hemostatic patch big enough to cover the stab wound. Keith knows from experience that it’s going to hurt. He hovers over Shiro. “Look at me. Please.” Shiro’s eyes blink open, his mouth set in a grimace. “The patch will help stem the bleeding but it will burn.” He grabs Shiro’s flesh hand since his prosthetic one doesn’t seem to have any function. “Squeeze my hand when it hurts.”

Shiro gives a brief nod and Keith applies the patch, which immediately turns light blue when it activates. “Keith, I--fuck!” A strangled cry escapes his gritted teeth. He grips Keith’s hand so hard that Keith starts to lose feeling in his fingertips. “Fuck, it hurts, it hurts.”

“It will stop, I promise, I--” Keith suddenly sucks in a breath as pain blooms along his side. He takes a shuddering breath, trying to get the discomfort to pass, but it doesn’t. He wasn’t injured by the assailant and by now, his body should have processed the poison. He can’t understand what the pain is about but there’s no time to focus on his own body.

“You found me,” Shiro repeats. Shiro’s muscles lose a little of their tension, his grip loosening around Keith’s fingers. He looks up at Keith, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. “I didn’t want to die alone.” He rubs his thumb over Keith’s knuckles. “Thank you.”

Keith shakes his head. “You are not going to die.”

Shiro swallows and his breathing hitches in his chest. “Pain’s less. Not a good sign.” He closes his eyes. “I’m dying.”

Another wave of discomfort crests through Keith’s body and he bites back a groan. “You’re not.”

“Keith. It’s okay.” Shiro’s voice is soft, quiet as a prayer. “At least I got to see you before I go.”

The pain rises, shaking through his ribcage, and it’s enough that Keith can’t hold back a hiss. “Shit.”

Shiro’s eyes widen and his hand grips Keith’s tightly again. “What’s wrong?”

A stuttered laugh nearly makes its way out of Keith’s mouth when he finally makes the connection. It’s not just that Shiro is his mate. He’s _bonded_ with Shiro.

The very thought seems impossible, something that Keith learned in their health ed classes was incredibly rare among Galra. It only ever happened under dire circumstances if a mate was physically harmed as a way to try to protect them. Even Keith’s doctors thought he might not have enough Galra genetics to trigger a mate, let alone something like this. Suddenly the pain leaching through his body feels more like a cause for celebration than one to inspire fear. If he’s been able to establish a bond with Shiro, it means Keith’s quintessence can keep Shiro alive.

“Nothing,” he says, the word an exhale of relief. “Nothing’s wrong.” He brushes back the damp hair from Shiro’s forehead. “Listen to me. I will not lose my mate. I only just found you and I will not let you die.”

Shiro stares at him, and for a moment Keith wonders if he understands what Keith’s saying. “M’glad you’re here.” He lets his head fall against Keith’s palm, his eyes closing. “Think I broke my arm.”

The vitals displaying on the medikit monitor seem to stabilize for the moment. Shiro’s oxygen level still is worrisome and his heart rate’s fast, trying to compensate, but it’s not getting worse. “If we are unable to fix it, we can make you a new one.”

Shiro shudders a breath, his hand floundering for Keith’s. “You’re not gonna send me back all broken, right? Not in that dark box?”

The urge to get closer to Shiro is too strong. It’s more necessary than air. Keith leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I will not let you out of my sight.” The touch eases a little of the pain and Keith’s lungs feel like they can fully expand again. Overhead, an alert rings through the viewscreen; they’re on the other side of the wormhole and getting closer to the base. “We will arrive soon. Try to stay awake, please?”

Shiro’s so pale but he nods. “Can you,” he says, his breath short, “keep talking?”

Keith’s never been a chatty person. He was usually the one in his classes to be reprimanded for not talking by his instructors, but with Shiro, it somehow doesn’t feel difficult. “You are doing so well. I know it hurts, that you are tired, but soon we will get you to a healer and then you can have your pick of what ships you want to try. You can fly anything you want.”

“Wanna fly,” Shiro says, his voice a little slurred. “With you.”

“Oh, I will be there,” Keith says. He’s getting a bit lightheaded and he realizes Shiro’s probably needing more quintessence to stay awake, but that’s fine. Shiro can take whatever he needs. “I want to see you really let loose. Shake up the stars.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, and to spar with you for real. And make you some actual Galra food. Take you to my planet. I want to show you everything.”

A few more tears snake out of Shiro’s eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Meeting you,” Shiro’s chest flutters, his voice soft. “At the end.”

“Oh,” Keith says, brushing away Shiro’s tears with his thumb. He’s aware of how fast his own pulse pounds, his body barely able to hold all of the feelings he has for his mate. Keith’s never experienced anything like this before, so he has nothing to compare it to, but he didn’t realize it would feel so big that there wouldn’t be room for anything else in his heart. It’s like the galaxy’s axis now turns on the man beside him. “It’s not the end. This is just the start.”

“Don’t go,” Shiro says. The medikit beeps; his oxygen dips lower. “Keith.”

“I won’t. Hold on.” He feels the thrusters adapt underneath them as they enter the base’s atmosphere. “Shiro.” He goes limp under Keith’s hands, his breathing ragged. “No!” Keith cups Shiro’s unconscious face between his palms, closing his eyes and willing the bond to take more. He presses a kiss over the scarred bridge of Shiro’s nose. “Just take it,” Keith says, his words hissed between clenched teeth. “Stay alive. Please.”

The ship rattles, nearly knocking Keith away from Shiro, but he holds on through one of the roughest landings he’s ever experienced. The autopilot struggles to set down but when they finally do, a voice clicks through the comms. “Keith? Are you all right?”

Kolivan. Keith’s never been happier to hear his old instructor’s gruff voice come through the speakers. “I need a healer. Now!”

It should be easy to lift Shiro and carry him off the ship himself, but when Keith tries to get to his feet, he’s so dizzy that he collapses back to his knees. The edges of his vision blur and he stops moving, hoping it’ll pass. Shit. A wave of despair crashes over him. How can he protect his mate when he can’t even stand?

“Keith.” A warm hand touches his shoulder and Keith realizes someone’s been speaking to him.

“Kolivan.” He grabs hold of Shiro’s wrist. Keith’s panting like he’s been running, like he can’t quite get enough air. “He’s hurt, you need to help him. He's my mate.”

Kolivan’s intake of breath is audible, but his tone is kind. “We’ll take care of him.” Another figure enters the ship and Keith sees Ulaz, a Blade healer as well as Kolivan’s mate. “The human is injured,” Kolivan says, gesturing to the floor. “What is his name?”

“Shiro.” Keith holds on to Shiro’s arm as Ulaz pulls out a handheld scanner, one far more sophisticated than anything in the medkit. The words start to bubble out of his mouth. “I tried to keep him safe. I tried. Someone took him. Think they're a Blade.” The pain’s getting worse again and Keith’s struggling not to cry. “He was stabbed. I got here as fast as I could.”

Kolivan’s hand rests on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m sure you did. Just let Ulaz work.”

Ulaz scrutinizes the scanner and then shakes his head with a grunt. “His lung’s collapsed. The patch you put on helped, but he’s losing blood fast. There may be more internal damage this scanner can’t see. The prosthetic may be damaged and causing more trauma. We need to get him into surgery now.”

He couldn’t breathe. All this time, he couldn’t breathe. Keith swallows, trying to find his voice again. “He will survive, right?” Keith watches as they load Shiro onto a floating gurney, still holding onto his arm.

“You need to let go. He’s in good hands.” Kolivan tugs on Keith’s wrist, pulling it away from Shiro. “Come on. You look really pale. We’ll have someone check you over.”

Another healer joins Ulaz at the bottom of the ramp, pushing Shiro away towards the medical wing, but instead of feeling better that Shiro’s about to get help, all it does is rattle what’s left of Keith’s composure. Kolivan offers him a hand to get off the ship, and suddenly, for the second time that quintant, Keith feels his teeth sharpen. Every feral instinct is back, flooding his system. “No! Don’t take him!” He leaps off the ramp, but his body doesn’t cooperate and instead of landing gracefully on the hangar floor, he loses his footing and hits the ground, landing painfully on his side.

Before he can push himself up, Kolivan is there, steadying him. “They’re taking him to surgery. Ulaz is the most capable healer I know. It’s all right.”

Shiro’s almost out of the hangar. He tries to fight against Kolivan, to break out of his grip, but he’s so weak that his blows barely land against the Galra’s massive bulk. “Let me go! Don’t take him away from me!”

Kolivan holds his arms behind him, easily overpowering Keith. “I don’t want to hurt you. Stop fighting me.”

Keith struggles to breathe, struggles to think. His mate, his mate is so far away and everything hurts. His body feels like it’s being torn apart from the inside. He gulps back a sob and lets out a harrowing wail, a sound he’s never heard himself make. It reverberates off the metal walls. When Ulaz and Shiro disappear from the hangar, Keith’s knees give out and only Kolivan’s hold keeps him from collapsing.

“Keith.” Kolivan asks gently. “How long has he been your mate?”

“A varga,” Keith murmurs. His mind keeps screaming at him to protect, to fight, but his body can barely stand. Pain, sharp and different from before, suddenly rips into Keith’s side. He can’t stifle his screams. “Too far! Shiro!”

“He’s right inside. Calm down. You’ll see him after.”

A sob shakes him as the pain twists inside his ribs, driving out the air from his lungs. “Need him. Now.” Keith forces the words through his clenched jaw. “Bonded.”

Before Keith can say another word, Kolivan is running with Keith tucked against his chest. It’s dizzying and Keith shuts his eyes, aware of the terrible whimpering sounds coming from his own mouth. Shiro. He just needs Shiro.

His back hits a cold table as bright lights overhead blind him. Kolivan’s talking but Keith whimpers and misses some of his words. “... don’t know how it happened. Not sure if it’s reciprocal. We need to put him out.”

Keith recoils. “No, no, please.” He tries to push the hands on him away, but he can barely move. He hates the way he’s shaking, like he’s not strong enough to protect his mate. That hurts even more than the pain ratcheting through his body.

“It’ll be all right,” Kolivan says, his voice softer than Keith’s heard it before. “You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

A sharp prick at his throat steals his voice before it drops him into darkness.

++

There’s someone singing.

It’s quiet, hushed as a lullabye, but it’s there. It reminds Keith of nights when he couldn’t sleep as a little kit, when he crawled into his parents’ bed and pressed between them. The song evokes memories of being safe and loved.

He opens his eyes and looks up. “Mom.” His voice is ragged and thin.

“My sweet kit,” she says, smoothing her hand over Keith’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing here?” Keith’s heart starts to pound. This isn’t right. He tries to lift his head, but he’s so weak that he can barely turn his neck. “Shiro. Where is Shiro?”

“Shh, darling.” She points to the bed next to Keith. “He’s right there. They brought him in a few doboshes ago.”

He can’t quite reach Shiro, but he can see him, which settles Keith’s pulse down to a more comfortable rate. His breathing is quiet and regular, and the movement of his chest gives Keith more peace than words could at that moment. “He is alive.”

“Ulaz said he’s going to recover well.” She squeezes Keith’s hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Listen. They’re not going to let me stay very long. Your bond is unstable because it’s so new and having others around can make it difficult on you both.”

Keith swallows, grateful when his mom helps him drink some water. “Did… did they tell you what happened?”

“About how you saved your mate from an attack on his life, after you drank poison meant to kill him?” Krolia says, shaking her head. “How you poured enough quintessence into him to keep a star lit until you arrived here? I’m pretty sure you’re the talk of the base, not to mention the coalition.”

“No,” Keith says, looking down at the white blankets draped over his body. “I wasn’t fast enough, Mom. I was right there and I could have stopped it, I tried, but I could not protect my mate.” A tremor runs through Keith’s body and he wants to hide his face with embarrassment. His mom is one of the strongest, most powerful Galra he’s ever known and Keith couldn’t even do the one job he was asked to perform.

“Keith. Look at me.” His mom brushes back the hair from his forehead, her expression soft. “You did. You saved him. He’s going to be all right.”

“I never felt anything for anyone. Not like this.” Keith drags his hands down his face. “And suddenly it’s so much.”

She leans forward, enveloping Keith in a gentle hug. “Oh, kit. It can be so hard at first. It’s wonderful, but your emotions are all over the place. It’s difficult enough with a new mate but with a bond, well, that’ll take time to settle.”

“Shiro doesn’t know,” Keith whispers against her shoulder. “He doesn’t know about mates or bonds or any of it. I barely know. If he refuses me, I will--” Keith can’t finish the sentence. It’s too much for him to even think about.

“Keith.” Krolia pulls away, gesturing at the room. “Look around.”

It’s a healing room, all done in pale blue colors. There’s a holowindow on the wall, making it look like they’re viewing an evening sky. “What am I supposed to see?”

“They had to put up a forcefield around your room. Your bond is intense enough that it was making it difficult for the other patients to sleep.” Krolia gives a quiet laugh. “If it’s that strong, it’s not just coming from you, kit. I think you’re sending Ulaz back to school over this one. He’s never seen a connection like this before, but then, we always knew you were special.” She glances over at Shiro’s sleeping form. “I’m sure he must be too.”

“He is. He is amazing.” Keith lets out a pent-up breath. “It happened so suddenly. There were signs, little ones, but I didn’t recognize them fully until right before the attack.” Keith slumps back against his pillows. He hates how weak he feels, but his mom’s words bring him some comfort, if not a bit of confusion.

“What else is bothering you?”

Keith looks up at her. “How did you know?”

“I’m your mom. I know that look.” She rubs her thumb over Keith’s hand. “If you’re asking about knowing about your mate right after meeting them, I think that runs in the family. I wasn’t on Earth four quintants before I knew. There’s nothing odd about that.”

It does help a little to be reminded that his parents had a similar experience, although theirs involved a crash and not a political assaassination attempt. “But the person who attacked Shiro, are they still out there? How will we keep him safe?”

Krolia drops her chin for a moment and she takes a beat before she speaks. “We keep him safe by not letting him go back to Earth for now.”

Keith grips a handful of blanket. “Wait, what?”

“You couldn’t have known this was an inside job. The poison you drank was meant for Shiro, of course, but your genetics allowed you to metabolize it without any long-term effects. An ex-Blade,” she says with a curl of her lip, “took the job as a mercenary. We have the assailant in custody and they’ve given their statement. Apparently someone at Captain Shirogane’s Garrison wanted him dead.”

“Shit,” Keith says. “Admiral Sanda.” He thinks back to Shiro, tipsy on the couch, talking about how the Admiral didn’t want him to come. He hopes he never meets this Admiral, because he is quite sure he would go completely feral the moment he saw her.

“That’s the name we were given.” Krolia sighs. “It certainly sets back our hopes to bring Earth on as a coalition member, but perhaps in time we can revisit it. Meanwhile, we’ll ensure Shiro’s safety, don’t worry about that.”

Keith leans against her shoulder, grateful for her solid warmth. Knowing that she and the Blades are invested in making sure Shiro is safe eases some of the tension in his chest, but he’s not sure how Shiro’s going to feel about not going home. There’s so much he needs to explain and he doesn’t even know where to start. “How did you,” he asks, taking a shaky breath, “tell Dad?”

“About him being my mate?”

“Yes.”

A soft laugh chases out of her. “I can’t help you much there. He had a different word for it, but he knew about as early as I did. You know how exuberant he can be. He’s terrible at concealing how he feels.” She kisses his temple. “You and your mate will find your way. Just trust your heart.”

There’s a quiet tap outside the door and Krolia lifts her head. “That’s my cue. I don’t think my political clout is going to work on Ulaz.” She gives Keith a gentle squeeze. “Your dad has a message for you. He loves you, he can’t wait to meet Shiro, and he said the card to get in is hidden in the usual place.”

Keith’s throat tightens when he realizes what his dad means. “Tell him thank you. And I love you both.”

“Rest. Let us know if you need anything.” She ruffles his mussed hair. “Love you, kit.”

The lights dim a little when she departs, leaving the room quiet and still. He wonders how badly he must have reacted for Kolivan to have contacted his mom. His neck feels bruised in a few places from the sedative they injected; they must have given him more than a single dose. He feels wrung out and raw, and the medication leaves a metallic taste on his tongue. Looking down at himself, he realizes his uniform is gone, replaced by a thin medical wing gown. It feels disconcerting to be without weapons. There’s probably dozens of Blades just in the medical wing itself so there’s no need for Keith to be armed, and yet not having his own blade attached to his hip gives him a bit of anxiety, even if at this moment he’d probably collapse if they made him stand up.

A wave of weariness surges through him and even though he doesn’t want to, he closes his eyes. He floats between awareness and sleep before he sinks into slumber. His dreams are vivid and all of them are about Shiro: his scent, his warmth, his laugh, his hands. He’s never had dreams like this, where they’re so real that he’d swear he was awake.

A shrill beeping startles him from sleep. Keith hisses under his breath when he realizes the noise is coming from the other side of the room. Lights blink on the monitors beside his bed, angry and red. Shiro.

Keith pushes back the blankets, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Fuck, he’s still dizzy. Ignoring the wash of lightheadedness, he climbs down, holding onto the bed for support. His mom left a chair on his side of the room and Keith drags it with him, surprised that just moving a simple piece of furniture could be so difficult. He feels like a newborn kit. As weak as he is, the urge to get to Shiro is all-consuming and he grunts as he struggles to cross the room, holding himself up on the chair as he goes. “Shiro,” he pants. “Hold on.”

The lightly humming forcefield over the door comes down and Ulaz rushes in, heading to Shiro’s bedside. He flashes a frown at Keith as he holds up a scanner to Shiro, examining his monitors. “Go back to bed.”

Keith pulls a breath between gritted teeth. “Fix him!”

“I’m working on it.” Ulaz fusses with the fluid line in the crook of Shiro’s elbow, but from where Keith struggles to stand, he can see Shiro’s vital signs start to drop. The beeping gets louder, more insistent. Ulaz swears in Galra. “We can’t give him more pain meds or he’ll stop breathing.” He pulls out his padd. “He’s not reacting to the medications like we thought. I need to find something else for him.”

Keith’s chest constricts. He can’t have gotten this far, gotten Shiro to the healers in time, only to lose him now. The monitor’s alarms are so pervasive that Keith almost misses the hissed whisper that comes from Shiro’s mouth. “Keith. Need you.”

“Shiro!” Keith crosses the last few steps, falling to his knees as he grabs Shiro’s hand. “I’m here.” The moment Keith’s fingers brush over Shiro’s skin, the beeping stops. Keith intertwines their fingers, holding tight, and Ulaz lets out a soft gasp.

“This bond,” Ulaz shakes his head, stepping back. “I thought it was only to keep your mate alive while he was injured, but it’s clearly much deeper than that. I’ve only read about something like this. I never knew it could happen unless both parties were fully Galra.” He comes to Keith’s side, touching his shoulder. “You need to be closer. It’ll help stabilize you both. I thought being in the same room would be enough, but skin to skin appears to be necessary in this case.” Ulaz helps Keith up onto Shiro’s bed.

He curls on his side next to Shiro, careful not to jostle him. “I don’t want to hurt him,” Keith says, his fingers still threaded through Shiro’s.

“I don’t think you can. I suspect my presence is more hurtful right now than anything else.” Ulaz takes another step back. “Your bond needs time to settle. Look, his vitals are already coming back up just having you in proximity. Incredible.” Keith watches as the rhythm of Shiro’s pulse evens out and his oxygen levels rise. A surge of pride rises in him when he realizes that just being close to Shiro could affect him so much, that he could actually make Shiro feel better.

“What should I do?” Having his mate so close floods Keith with such affection that it makes it a little difficult to draw a breath.

“Keep him close. If this works like I think it will, you’ll both heal much faster.” Ulaz moves towards the door. “Use the signal by the bed if you need assistance. Otherwise, it’s best if we track his biometrics from outside the room. I’ll have some food delivered for you soon.” He slips from the room, leaving them alone.

Shiro’s eyes are still closed, but he turns his face towards Keith, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. “S’you.”

A deep, rumbling purr starts up from inside Keith’s chest. It’s been something that happened occasionally since Keith was young, but never as loud or as strong as right now. He worries it might be unwelcome or that it’ll startle Shiro, but instead, Shiro pushes himself a little closer. “You are okay,” Keith whispers, using his free hand to lightly touch Shiro’s forearm, stroking over the bare skin.

After a few doboshes, Shiro’s eyes open slowly. He blinks at Keith before he says, “Is that you?”

“It’s me.”

Shiro gives a small shake of his head. “I mean the purring.”

“Oh. Yes, that is me, too.” Keith suddenly feels a little self-conscious, but he only purrs more strongly when Shiro smiles.

“It’s better than morphine.”

“Is that good?”

Shiro squeezes Keith’s fingers. “Very good.”

Keith inches closer, the purring rising and falling with his breathing. “It aids with healing. I am glad it is pleasant for you.”

“It is.” Shiro gently tugs his hand free of Keith’s and then threads his left arm around Keith, nudging him to rest his head against Shiro’s chest. He aligns himself along Shiro’s uninjured side, making sure the vibrations will provide relief to Shiro’s injuries. “Oh. Wow.” Shiro exhales softly. “It’s like I can breathe again.”

Keith knows how he feels. He takes in Shiro’s scent, which is still present underneath the sharp smell of antiseptic. There is so much he wants to say, but he isn’t quite sure how to put it into words. He can hear Shiro’s heartbeat under his ear, the steady rhythm quickly becoming one of the best sounds Keith has ever heard. He can feel it, too, a gentle thump under his cheek, reminding him how very alive Shiro is. He wants to bask in the closeness, to savor every beat.

Shiro shifts a little underneath him, and then tugs on the gown Keith’s wearing. “Did you get hurt, too?”

“It hurt to have you far away from me.” He gestures between them. “I felt some of what you felt.” He sighs. “I am not explaining well.”

Shiro’s heartbeat picks up a few beats and Keith worries he’s upset him. “Something happened, didn’t it? It wasn’t just the attack.” He swallows. “Something with us.”

“I,” Keith falters, his purring stuttering to a stop. What if Shiro doesn’t understand? What if he doesn’t want this?

“You stopped purring.” Shiro’s hand squeezes Keith’s wrist. “What’s wrong.”

“It helped your pain. I am sorry.” Keith closes his eyes, trying to calm himself enough to start up his purr again, but it’s a struggle and the vibrations falter.

“You’re upset.” Shiro’s voice is gentle. His heartbeat stays steady; he’s not angry or afraid. “You can tell me.”

A tiny scrap of rumble comes back through Keith’s chest at Shiro’s words. “I do not wish to scare you.”

“You won’t.”

Keith closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against Shiro’s chest. He hears the air inflate Shiro’s lungs, the _pum-pum_ of his heart. “When I knew, I wanted to tell you, but there was no time. There was so much blood. I had to save you.” Keith licks his dry lips and the purr in his chest starts up anew. He's not being clear. “Let me try again. Do you know anything of mates?”

Shiro’s body relaxes a little as the purring seeps into his skin. “On Earth, mates sometimes means friends.”

Keith cracks open one eye. “It is more than friends.”

“Do you mean lovers?”

“It is more than that, too.” Keith feels Shiro’s hand rest on his back, the warmth of it passing through his thin gown. “It is the one that will pledge themselves to you, and you to them. Galra have them. They said,” Keith says, stopping to steady his voice, “because I am half, I might not. I thought I wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” Shiro says. He’s quiet for a long moment. “You… you think it’s me. That I'm yours.”

Keith doesn’t mean to, but he curls himself tighter as if preparing for a blow. He knows his mom and Ulaz think this will be reciprocal, but the last thing Keith wants is for Shiro to think he doesn’t have a choice in this. Even if every part of Keith feels the pull of his desire for Shrio as his mate, if it’s not shared by Shiro, then he can’t pursue it. “I know you are mine. But you may not wish that. There is a bond between us, but it is fragile enough that it can be broken. It is not easy, but it can be done. You can be free. If you want.” He doesn’t want to hear Shiro’s answer. His purring is plaintive now, almost like a stuttered cry.

“Keith.” Shiro smooths his hand over Keith’s hair. “Look at me. Whatever this is, whatever’s happened between us, I don’t want to be free of it.”

Keith stills, afraid to breathe. “You don’t?”

Shiro gives him a soft smile, his fingers tangled at Keith’s nape. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone before in my life.” He presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead and the sensation lights up the nerve endings through Keith’s body like a nebula. “If that’s mates, or meant to be, well, you’re not the only one that feels it.”

Keith looks up, his purring loud now enough that Keith has to talk over it. “What do you feel?”

“I feel all the feels.” Shiro laughs a little. “You’re so brave and strong and beautiful, and I wanted to kiss you the night we sparred but that seemed crazy. And then the night I was drunk, but that just seemed like the alcohol messing with me, but I still felt the same in the morning and I knew I didn’t want to leave you. And then you saved my life, and I’m not sure what kind of wild space metaphysics happened but all I know is I feel better when I’m next to you.”

Keith nods, a little sadly. “Oh. It is the bond. That is why you feel better.”

“No, it’s because the person who took me on a joyride and remembers how I like my tea and who worries if I got enough sleep is literally here in my arms. It feels good because it’s you.” Shiro grins. “I think the bond is just a bonus.”

Shiro feels good because of him. He wants Keith. Pride surges through him, and Keith’s entire body vibrates with the force of his purr as he pushes himself up on his elbow so he can meet Shiro’s gaze. A thought occurs to him, new and different. Exciting. “I wish, I wish to kiss you now.”

“I wish you would.”

Keith leans down, tilting his head to press his mouth against Shiro’s. It’s warm, soft. He feels Shiro’s chest rise with his breath, the light tug of Shiro’s fingers in his hair, the planes of muscle along Shiro’s body. The screaming in the back of Keith’s mind, the endless tide of desire for his mate is finally soothed, dropping from a roar to a hum. Shiro’s lips open and Keith gently touches his tongue inside his mouth, his body buzzing with the new sensations of heat and softness. He likes Shiro’s mouth. It is wild to consider, but he imagines he will like all of him. A light groan escapes Shiro and Keith stops immediately, pulling back in surprise. “Did I injure you?”

Shiro flushes. “No, that wasn’t pain. It was a good sound.”

Keith strokes back Shiro’s forelock, enjoying the way the hair feels between his fingers. “You will need to explain human noises to me.” He glances at the display next to them, surprised to see the shift in his vitals. “Kissing increases your heart rate. Is that normal?”

“Very normal.” Shiro slides his hand around the back of Keith’s neck, pulling him close again. “Is kissing new for you?”

“Yes.” Keith presses his hand over Shiro’s chest, enjoying the way his heart beats faster now. “Some Galra like to experience others before they meet their mate. I did not desire others.” He tilts his head, suddenly wondering if this is what humans do, if this is what Shiro is used to. “Is this typical of humans?”

“Humans have a lot of variety when it comes to what’s typical.” Shiro noses against Keith’s throat. “What matters is what feels right to the person.”

Shiro’s affirmation floods Keith with relief. “You feel right.” Keith senses a hot flush come over his neck, right under his jaw. It feels pleasant, even though it’s not a sensation he’s experienced before. “So good.”

Shiro’s lips brush Keith’s neck and it’s electric, enough that Keith wonders that sparks don’t go up towards the ceiling. “Look at that blush. So pretty.” He presses his mouth a bit harder and Keith instantly decides he wants to do the same back to Shiro as soon as he can. “Your pulse is so fast, it’s fluttering.”

“I suppose that is normal for Galra and kissing, then, too.” Keith can feel his own heart pounding now, shocked at how quickly Shiro’s touch and words have affected him. He brushes his hand over Shiro’s chest, enjoying the way his body feels under his fingertips, and suddenly Shiro lets out a sharp whine. Keith stops. “That was a bad sound.”

“Sorry.” Shiro hisses a breath between his teeth. “Your pain meds are kinda weird and the purring helped a lot but I’m still kinda, um, injured.”

“I am sorry.” Keith’s purring, which had tapered off, returns full-force. “I will make healing vibrations for you. And the bond will allow you to draw from my energy should you need it.”

Shiro nuzzles against him. “That’s why you’re so weak right now. You gave me your strength on the ship, didn’t you?”

“Of course. You’re my mate.” Keith rests his head against Shiro’s shoulder. He’s not thrilled that Shiro knows he’s weakened, so he adds, “I am not at full strength but could still protect you.”

“I have no doubt,” Shiro says, his voice so fond that Keith sighs. He yawns, his breathing starting to slow down. “What do Galra call their mates?”

“Hmm. ‘My mate’, usually.”

“No, I meant, like, do you call them other things, like affectionate terms.”

“Galra keep those names private, but perhaps? I can ask Kolivan or Ulaz but they will likely not tell me what name they have for each other.” He nudges Shiro’s shoulder with his chin. “Do you have a name you wish to be called?”

Shiro blushes, but he shakes his head. “Let me think about it.”

Keith feels quite certain that there is a name, but Shiro falls asleep a few doboshes later. The pull of his mate’s easy breath and warmth is so soothing that Keith can’t help but be drawn into rest himself, a light purr still rising from him even as he drifts off.

++

After two quintants, despite Ulaz’s requests for them to stay a bit longer so he can observe their bond more closely, Shiro’s healed well enough to travel. Keith’s itching to get out of the medical wing and into a space where he and Shiro can have some privacy. Kolivan offers them quarters on the base, but Keith politely declines. He knows exactly where he wants to take Shiro, a place where they’ll be safe together.

Thanks to Ulaz’s treatment, Shiro’s wounds are closed, leaving minimal scars, but he’s still regaining his strength. He sits up in the cockpit with Keith, but not more than fifteen doboshes into their trip, he’s asleep again. Keith reaches across their seats and squeezes Shiro’s prosthetic hand, which he claims works even better than it did before it was broken. He’s grateful the base opens up a wormhole for them to allow them quicker travel, because every cell in Keith’s body just wants Shiro all to himself and as close as possible.

When they arrive at their destination, Shiro’s still sleepy, and Keith slips an arm around his middle to steady him as they disembark. “Where’re we?” Shiro asks, leaning against Keith’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell you in the morning.” Keith helps him across the threshold and they make their way to the bedroom. He settles Shiro on the edge of the bed, helping him remove his flight suit and put on something comfortable. They’d arranged for Shiro’s things to be brought to the base and Keith’s still not sure about how all of Shiro’s clothing works, but the drawstring short pants seem easy enough. After Keith ensures the security system is armed, he strips and climbs into bed. Shiro’s already asleep, but even in his slumber he reaches for Keith, making a ripple of pride rush through him. He loves that Shiro feels safe enough to fall asleep beside him.

When he wakes, Keith finds himself sprawled on his stomach, the warm weight of Shiro’s arm draped over his back. He smiles, stretching a little under the blankets. There’s a soft sound in the room and Keith pushes up on his elbows, straining to hear, his tapered ears flicking. It takes him about ten ticks to realize what he’s hearing is a heartbeat, and about another ten to realize it’s not his, but Shiro’s. He tilts his head, fascinated as he watches Shiro sleep. If Keith is still, the slow, gentle thump of Shiro’s heart is audible. Ulaz said their bond would settle out, but that for the next few weeks, it would likely sometimes cause intense cravings for each other, and possibly some sensory feedback. Keith’s not sure if this side effect is going to stick around, but for now, he’s transfixed.

Shiro’s stunning all the time, but when he’s asleep, muscles lax and loose, expression quiet, breathing slow, there is something so beautiful about him that it makes Keith’s chest tight. Lying on his back, his ribcage rises and falls peacefully, his flesh hand curled next to his face on the pillow. His body is thick and firm, defined with muscle, and Keith wants to reach out and touch him, to stroke his fingertips over every inch of skin. How the gods saw fit to give Keith such a lovely mate he has no idea, but he’s grateful.

He notices Shiro’s heart pick up a few beats as he stirs in his sleep, a quiet sound escaping his parted lips. Under the blanket covering him, Keith sees him adjust his hips. He’s dreaming, Keith realizes, nudging himself closer to Shiro. Immediately, the heartbeats get a bit faster as soon as Keith’s fingers slide along Shiro’s forearm. Keith’s dick hardens as warmth rises across his skin. This is the first chance they’ve had to be alone and he wonders if Shiro is aching for him, too.

Shiro lets out another soft groan, which Keith realizes now is a good noise, and his eyes flutter open, a smile curving his lips. “Keith.” The way Shiro says his name makes Keith’s pulse stutter. A soft blush creeps over his cheeks. “I was having a really nice dream.” He reaches out, touching Keith’s face. “But this is better.”

Keith leans into his touch, the rumbling of a purr starting up in his chest. “Your heartbeat got faster while you dreamed.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss against Shiro’s mouth. It’s the one thing they’ve been able to do regularly since it did not disturb Shiro’s biometrics as much as other kinds of closeness, which were impossible at the base. Keith hopes that will change now. “Was there kissing?”

“I’m pretty sure there was more than kissing.” He laughs, glancing at his lower body. “My dick still thinks I’m dreaming.”

Keith brightens. He's been wondering what Shiro’s body will look like uncovered. “I wish to see your dick, please.”

Another laugh shakes out of Shiro. “I’ve never had such a polite request.”

“If you wish to see mine to make you feel more comfortable,” Keith says, pulling back the blanket that covers him, “here.” He opens his legs, hoping that Shiro will approve of him. If they are mates, it should be satisfactory, but Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully.

”Keith.” Shiro’s eyes widen, a quiet gasp audible over the sound of his quickening heartbeat. “Damn.”

Keith languidly draws his fingertips along his erection, which has flushed a very deep shade of purple. “Is that a good damn?”

The weight of Shiro’s stare only makes Keith harder, and a drop of precome beads at the tip. “Holy shit. Keith, you’re,” Shiro coughs, pushing himself up to get a bit closer. “You’re big. And there are stripes, oh, wow.” He rakes a hand through his mussed hair, his expression surprised but appreciative. “Wait, are those _ridges_?”

A self-satisfied purr rumbles through him. “They are to increase pleasure for our mates. Is this to your liking?”

“Everything about you is.” He meets Keith’s eyes, a hint of hesitation in his movements as he hooks his thumbs over the waist of his clothing. “I don’t have stripes. Or ridges. Just a fair warning.” He pulls them down over his hipbones, freeing his dick.

“Oh!” Keith says, immediately moving closer as Shiro untangles himself from his clothing. Between his muscular thighs, his dick rises from short, dark curls. It’s thick and long, its tapered tip dark pink, and the smell of it makes Keith’s mouth water. “Look at you. You are so beautiful, Shiro. I admire your dick.” Another warm blush rises along Keith’s skin, and he glances down at himself before holding up the underside of his wrists, which are now flushed purple. “You are making me very aroused.”

Shiro traces a hand over the veins at Keith’s wrists, making him tremble. “Oh, is that sensitive?”

“Yes. But you can touch.”

Shiro’s fingers send shock waves of pleasure through him. “You’ve gone all purple on your wrists and your neck.” He leans in, lightly kissing Keith’s throat. “Your pulse points?”

A ragged purr rises in Keith’s chest. “It helps us to connect with mates, to synchronize our heartbeats..” He drags the pads of his fingers over Shiro’s neck. “You do not blush here but your pulse is very strong. I like it.”

Shiro climbs over Keith’s body, straddling him, and eases Keith back until his spine presses against the bed. He kisses over Keith’s collarbones and chest, drawing soft sighs out of Keith. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I am pleasing to you?” Keith can already hear the answer in Shiro’s heartbeat, but he wants Shiro to say it.

“So pleasing.” Shiro’s hands run along Keith’s sides and hips, skirting closer to his dick but not touching. “So pretty. So strong. So amazing."

Keith squeezes Shiro’s biceps. One is all muscle, and the other flesh and metal, but both feel incredible under his hands. “I like that my mate is strong, too.” He tips up his chin. “Kiss me, Shiro.”

Shiro bends down as Keith reaches up to cup the back of Shiro’s neck. The graze of Shiro’s short hair over his palm adds a pleasant sensation to the heat of Shiro’s mouth. Keith feels more confident now about kissing. He likes the sounds Shiro makes, the way he groans a little against Keith when he drags his tongue along the roof of Shiro’s mouth. The weight of his mate on top of him makes Keith raise his hips until he feels his dick align with Shiro’s, sliding them against each other. A flash of heat kicks to life inside Keith and he moves again, and this time Shiro pulls his mouth away to gasp. “Keith.”

“It feels good to you when I touch my dick to yours, yes?” Keith lifts his hips slow, making sure the ridges on the bottom of his erection grind against the base of Shiro’s. He's very pleased with himself that he's thought of this movement.

Shiro’s pulse surges in Keith’s ears. “Shit, Keith.”

“What do you wish for?” Keith keeps lowering himself up and down, just a hint of friction between them. “Do you wish to touch me? Or me to touch you? Do you like mounting or being mounted?”

A light sheen of sweat glints along Shiro’s hairline. He’s breathing hard now. “I think with you I’ll like everything.” He closes his eyes tightly. “If you keep moving like that I’m gonna come.”

Keith stills. He knows what that means but he’s still not exactly clear on how Shiro’s body will work. His research on humans suggests they are all a bit different. “Does that mean you will not wish to engage in intimacy after you come?” He doesn’t want this closeness to end, so if that means not touching their dicks together for now, Keith can wait.

A tight laugh escapes Shiro. “After I come, I’ll be a bit sensitive but if you give me a little time I’ll get hard again.”

“So we can try different things.”

Shiro lets out a shaky exhale as he kisses Keith. “Yeah. We can. Whatever you want.”

“I wish to know the name you want to be called when we are alone.” Keith can feel the sweat between their skin where their bodies touch. He’s never felt more desired, more needed. “Tell me.”

Shrio’s blush goes down to his collarbone. “Baby.”

“You are not a tiny human but I will call you that if you like.” Keith runs his palms down Shiro’s forearms. “I want to make you come, baby. Can I touch you?” Shiro nods and Keith slides a hand between them, cupping their dicks together. “Oh, that is very good.” He rubs his thumb along the sides as he pumps his hips just a little. "Right there, yes?"

Shiro lets out a moan, holding himself up with his prosthetic while he brings his own hand next to Keith’s. “Fuck, those ridges are like heaven.” His heartbeat is faster now. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen, ever felt.”

Keith twines his fingers with Shiro’s, dragging their joined hands up and down. Shiro’s shaking, his breath punching in short puffs against Keith’s skin. “Come for me, baby,” Keith whispers.

A hot rush spills over Keith’s stomach as Shiro gasps his name. Keith gently strokes Shiro through until the smell of his mate pushes Keith over the edge as his orgasm follows and he comes with a shaky cry. He’s not used to making sounds--he’s always been silent when he sought his own private pleasure--but he wants Shiro to hear him.

“Holy shit,” Shiro pants, leaning down to press his forehead against Keith’s. “You’re perfect, so perfect. I’d cross a hundred galaxies to find you. A thousand.”

“You said a phrase before,” Keith says, closing his eyes for a moment just to savor the press of their skin. “Meant to be. I like those words.” He drifts for a tick. "Does that expression mean love?"

Shiro gets quiet, his heartbeat thudding in Keith's ears. "Yeah. It does."

He traces Shiro's jawline as peace settles through him. "Love is a big word to humans. It is a big word for Galra, too. But I do not know a better one to say how I feel about you."

"It's the same for me." Shiro kisses him, his lips soft and yielding. “I want to say so many things to you." Shiro’s mouth is back on his throat again, skimming over Keith's sensitive skin. "Do so many things with you."

“We are very agreed.” The combined smell of their arousal is enough to make Keith purr, let alone Shiro's words. He pleased his mate. He made his mate come. He even knows what secret name he likes. “You make such lovely sounds when you come. I am glad you will get hard again soon.”

Shiro shifts a little against him. “Keith, wait, I thought you came.”

“I did.”

“But you’re,” Shiro stops, his hand cupping Keith’s dick. “You’re still hard.”

Pride fills Keith’s chest. Shiro is impressed with him. “We only need about twenty ticks in between.”

“Oh, my God. How many times can you--”

“I am only half Galra so not as many as others, but usually six or seven in a row, but then I run dry, which becomes somewhat painful.”

“Six or seven.” Shiro collapses next to Keith. “You’re amazing, sweetheart.”

Keith nuzzles his cheek along Shiro’s shoulder. “I do not know that word.”

“It’s something we say on Earth about people who are precious to us.”

A low purr rumbles through Keith. “I like it. Please call me that sometimes.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” Shiro’s hand runs through Keith’s hair, brushing the damp pieces from his forehead. “I meant to ask you when I woke up but you distracted me with your gorgeous self. Where are we?”

“This is my shack.”

Shiro grins. “This place is way too nice to be a shack. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh.” Keith purses his lips. “That is the word my father used. It was meant to be like the home he had on Earth, or as much like it as we could. We built it together. It is outside of the city, near the mountains. You will like it, I think.” He traces Shiro’s jaw with a finger. “I will show you the outdoors when we have had enough intimacy for awhile, which I have not.”

“It really does look a lot like a house from back home.”

“Are you unhappy to not go back to Earth?” Keith listens closely to hear any changes in Shiro’s heartbeat, but it stays steady.

“Oh, I’m definitely in no hurry. Knowing that Sanda tried to off me, well. The Garrison can basically fuck off. Assassination attempts kind of make you rethink your life, you know?”

Keith purrs a bit harder, hoping the vibrations will communicate his emotions. “You experienced trauma and that is not easy to bear.”

“You did, too,” Shiro says softly. “Seeing me like that had to be incredibly hard.”

“It was.” Keith can’t help but trace over the healed skin where Shiro had been attacked. “The thought I could lose you, it was unthinkable.” He kisses over that spot. “What of people on Earth who might care for you?”

“Thanks to Kolivan, I was able to get an encrypted message through to my closest friends there, the Holts, so they know I’m safe and that I won’t be coming back anytime soon.” Shiro catches Keith’s hand, pressing his palm against Shiro’s chest. “I know where I’m supposed to be.”

“I know, too.” Keith kisses his shoulder. “With me. My mate.”

Shiro sits up slowly and clicks his tongue. “Oh, sweetheart. We made such a mess of you. Tell me where the towels are and I’ll clean you up.”

“The washroom is over there, but,” Keith tilts his head. “Surely there will be more come.”

“I mean, odds are good, but indulge me.” Shiro’s gone for a few moments and then he brings back a few towels, using one to clean Keith’s stomach. “Look at you. I love the stripes on your hips and thighs. They’re so beautiful.”

“You are very pink,” Keith says. “Pink everywhere. It is a good, pretty color.” He sighs at Shiro’s ministrations. “You are kind to care for me. Your hands are so big and gentle.”

Shiro blushes. “You’ve taken such good care of me. I’m glad I can do the same for you.”

There’s a little uptick in Shiro’s heart rate that Keith notices. He likes being able to tell what words and touches affect his mate. It’s very helpful information. “Do you like it when I tell you that you are good?”

The blush deepens. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I will tell you. You are very good. Good to talk to. Good to kiss. I like when you touch me like this. I want to feel more of it, more of you, baby.” He glances down and sees Shiro’s dick twitch between his legs. “I think it has now been sufficient doboshes and perhaps you can get hard and come again. This is very exciting.” He grins. “Is that acceptable to you?”

Shiro laughs, putting the towels aside and leaning in for a kiss. “It’s very acceptable.”

“Good,” Keith says, climbing into Shiro’s lap to press their chests together. “You ready?”

"Yes." Shiro kisses him, warm and deep, until Keith’s the one who’s panting. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I'm {@} starlitruns on tw ✨


End file.
